


Doctor B's Honeycomb

by ChipAndDealer



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst and Romance, Chloé Bourgeois Redemption, F/F, Future Fic, Marinette works for Gabriel, Mystery, New to this fandom so I haven't the foggiest idea what tags I should be using, Pretty sure I mostly did this to think about what jobs the characters would have post-canon, Slow Burn, Vigilantism, all grown up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23112025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChipAndDealer/pseuds/ChipAndDealer
Summary: Of course it was Dupain-Cheng. Gabriel Agreste left his design studio during a critical time in the process for his new line because he was worried for one of his workers and of course it was Dupain-Cheng. Juleka Couffaine, normally a very level-headed young woman treated a visitor to the office with the same familiarity as her fiancee and of course it was Dupain-Cheng. It was always Dupain-Cheng.Chloe's smile was plastic as Juleka left to wait in the next room. "So, I understand you're under a lot of pressure at work?"
Relationships: Chloé Bourgeois/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 70
Kudos: 309





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I guess I'm fandom trash for this now, too. It was only a matter of time, really. In case you're wondering things like why I used the French names in some places and English ones in others, I'd like to make one thing perfectly clear.
> 
> Any assumption that I have any idea what I'm doing is false.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

Her smile was plastic, the faded kind not often seen in new designers. There was a sort of sad beauty to it every time, tragedy in motion. The smiles always became plastic right before they broke. Gabriel Agreste had seen many plastic smiles. They didn't phase him anymore.

"Change the stitching on the sleeves to gold," he said, handing back the tablet that held the designs. "Once that's done, take it to Pierre in fabric. Choose something light. With these layers, I don't want another model collapsing."

That wasn't one of her designs, of course. The person responsible for that had been fired long ago, but the business still bore the scars.

"Oui, monsieur," she assured him. "I'll get started on it right away." With a hasty bow, she left to fix the coloring and begin the actual creation process.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Gabriel mused on the name. It sounded vaguely familiar in an odd way, like he'd heard it in association with something besides fashion, but her background checks had turned up nothing of note.

He shrugged the thought away. She was a competent original designer and implemented notes and critique well. She'd made it this far in the business with neither money nor connections behind her, and her passion for the business appeared to be ongoing, for the time being.

But her smile was plastic, and that could be a problem. She was reaching her breaking point, and once she did one of three things would happen: she'd grow bitter and her designs would lack any inspiration or creative flair, she'd quit fashion altogether, or she'd be one of a small few who managed to maintain some faculties and principles of style despite their newfound depression. While he hoped she'd be in the last category when she broke, the timing was particularly atrocious.

This Winter line wasn't slated to be complete for another four months and Dupain-Cheng was, for now, essential to its timely completion. If she'd had her breakdown a few months before she could have been used or replaced without any issue, likewise if it came a few months later, but at this delicate stage Gabriel would need to act quickly.

Nathalie was already outside with the car by the time he made it downstairs. Oh how he loathed traveling in public. Ever since he'd become famous, it was all he could do to get through a simple errand unaccosted. The only person who had made it bearable was... his mind clamped down on the thought, silencing it.

She would be returned, soon enough.

They stopped in front of a large but plain building with a simple sign in front of it. 'Honeycomb counseling office for Akuma victim prevention and recovery,' the sign read, and Gabriel's teeth clenched. If it weren't an absolute emergency, he wouldn't get within fifty yards of the place, but needs must, as they say.

He walked in with Nathalie close behind, entering the humble but obviously well funded office building. "Hello, monsieur, how can I help you, today?" The woman at the counter asked.

Nathalie leaned forward and answered for him. "A woman we know might be in danger of an Akuma. We'd like to talk to someone about what we can do to help her." Most of Gabriel's plebeian affairs were handled by her. He may have had a better eye for fashion, but Nathalie was far more adept at dealing with people, so he tended to have her do so whenever possible. He wouldn't be in the building at all if it weren't for the urgency of the matter requiring his direct oversight.

"Of course," the woman said easily. "Please, have a seat and there will be someone to speak with you shortly."

The pair did so and Gabriel cast a disparaging eye over the waiting room. The magazines and posters they had available were trite, the chairs old, and there was a portrait of a very plain looking young girl hung against one wall. Thick glasses, red hair, and the words 'Our Founder' written below it in simple gold type.

Briefly, Gabriel wondered if that was who they'd speak to. He knew the receptionist recognized him, so they'd probably get someone high up on the totem pole at least. If not the founder, who else?

"Monsieur?" A thin blonde wearing black pants and a yellow T-shirt called for him. "I can see you now." Her eyes flicked to Nathalie. "Madame, you as well." Without waiting for their answer, she disappeared into the back, and they followed her into a comfortably lit office, seating themselves on a wide couch as the blonde offered a hand to both of them, in turn. "My name is Chloe Bourgeois. I'm glad you came here, today. I understand a friend of yours is having difficulties?" She sat down and clicked a pen, ready to begin writing on a pad.

She was young, certainly, no older than his son, probably, but he respected the professionalism. Nathalie opened her mouth to speak, but Gabriel decided to answer for himself in this instance. "One of my designers is under a lot of pressure working on the Winter line. I'm worried that it's getting to her. I wish I could give her time off, but this is a critical junction in the process and she is essential."

"Unless she's dealing with problems at home, time off would likely be highly detrimental to her right now. Designers take pride in their work, and trying to forcefully separate them from that often deals more damage than good. Is this an experienced designer?" Chloe asked, jotting down a few notes.

"She's qualified, but this is the first major fashion line she's been heavily involved in," he answered, sighing. It would be easier if he were planning to Akumatize her. At least then there'd be some good that came from the almost certainly soon to be ruined line. But, no, if Marinette became an Akuma, she'd probably go after him, and he didn't need any more disruptions.

"Does she do good work?" Chloe asked with a raised eyebrow.

"She's diligent, with a good eye for designs, and takes direction well. Beyond experience, there's little more I could ask from her." Gabriel said it emotionlessly. They were facts. That was all.

"If you want my advice, I would say compliment her work," Chloe announced, standing. "If she's a good worker, tell her so. She's inexperienced. Knowing her boss thinks she's doing a good job will take some of the edge off the stress." She walked over to her desk and picked up a business card, handing it to him, which he handed to Nathalie. "I'd also suggest you give her my card, if you want a more permanent fix. We're not a cure-all down here, but some of our clients think we do good work, and we've yet to have an Akuma breakdown in the office, so we have that going for us. Don't force her to come, but tell her to give it some thought, please. If she's under as much stress as you say, she probably needs someone to talk to. Was that all you wanted to talk about?"

Nathalie and Gabriel stood, inclining their heads in polite bows. "Yes, thank you. We appreciate your seeing us."

"If you'd like to make a charitable donation, you know where to find us," Chloe called as they left, and when the door shut behind them she laid down on the couch with her arm over her eyes. "Gabriel Agreste in my office talking about someone else's stress?" She scoffed, glad there was no one around to hear. "God, I want a drink," she groaned to the empty room.

After a few more moments rest, she stood, adjusted her clothing to look presentable and walked out to the lobby again, grabbing the proper clipboard on the way. "Madame? I can see you now." It was going to be a long day.

(:*:)

Marinette stared down at the card in her hand, then looked up at Nathalie once again. "I don't understand," she said, blankly.

Marinette's office wasn't small, but between all the fabric, mannequins and countless discarded and in progress designs, it was crowded. Still, Nathalie stood above it all like she was built for that very purpose. "Monsieur Agreste values your work quite highly. To have you burn out, Akuma or no Akuma, would be a senseless waste of talent."

She looked down at the card again, turning it over in her hands. It wasn't the first time she'd held one. A few years back, one of their counselors approached Ladybug and asked if she would provide them to victims after an attack, and she said yes. But having one handed to her as a civilian was another matter entirely. They thought she needed a therapist?

"We can't force you to go," Nathalie continued. "But would you at least consider it? For the sake of those around you, if not your own."

"I..." Marinette hesitated before finally nodding. "I'll think about it. Thank you."

Nathalie departed shortly thereafter, leaving Marinette alone in her office. When she was sure Nathalie was out of hearing, she slammed two fists down on a table. "Damnit," she shouted, then three times more until her hands ached. "Damnit, damnit, damnit."

"Marinette," Tikki called, coming out of her purse. "Please, you have to calm down."

"I'm this close, Tikki." Marinette held out her finger and thumb, less than an inch apart. "I got hired on by Gabriel Agreste, I worked my way through the ranks, I have a premier design for the Winter line. Why is this happening when I'm so close to making it as a designer?"

"You think this is just bad timing?" Tikki asked, disbelievingly.

"Isn't it?" Marinette shrugged.

"You've been stressed out for months trying to get these designs perfect," Tikki pointed out with a sigh. "Chat Noir already noticed, did you really think your boss wouldn't?"

"I'd kinda hoped..." Marinette pouted. "What should I do about it, though? I can't just take a week off and go to the beach."

"I think you should see a counselor," Tikki advised, sagely.

"What?" Marinette's brain came to a dead stop. "Tikki, I'm Ladybug, smiling, reassuring, flawless. I can't even be Akumatized, I-"

"You can," Tikki cut her off, sharply. "And you know that."

Marinette looked away, wrapping her arms around herself against a cold chill that wasn't really there. "Fine," she said eventually. "I'll see a counselor when I have the time."

"Pierre's still getting the fabric, right? Why don't you go now?" Tikki suggested, even if it sounded an awful lot like an order instead of a suggestion.

Marinette leveled a mild glare at the Kwami. "You're trouble, you know that?"

Tikki just shrugged. Grabbing her purse, and getting her hair back into messy pigtails so it wouldn't look completely like she'd just crawled out of bed, Marinette made her way downstairs and out into the streets of Paris toward Honeycomb Counseling.

She'd never been to the building before, so she was surprised how nondescript it was. Tucked away, with only the sign to tell people what it was, it had an enviable privacy.

Marinette groaned on the front steps. "Oh, Tikki. I don't wanna be here. This was a bad idea."

"What's wrong with talking to people about your problems?" Tikki asked, staying in the purse so she couldn't be seen. "It's supposed to relieve stress."

"I can't talk to people about my problems because half my problems are secret." She grabbed her forehead. "And you know I don't like lying to people, how is that going to relieve stress?"

"You could always just choose not to say something that makes you uncomfortable," a new voice suggested. "They're therapists; I'm pretty sure they'd understand that."

Marinette turned to see the new visitor. Razor-straight jet black hair, brown eyes, and a grey pantsuit with a dark purple tie. Marinette almost didn't recognize her. "Juleka?"

Juleka blinked, looking at her again. "Marinette?" She said with a raised eyebrow.

Marinette jumped forward and hugged her, as was her typical response for seeing old friends again. "Oh my god, you look great. When did you stop dyeing your hair?"

"Who says I stopped?" Juleka smirked, pulling a blacklight out of her bag and shining it on her hair, revealing whorling patterns and shapes dyed there, normally invisible. She clicked the light off, and once more her hair seemed a natural black. "I just made it a little more work-friendly."

"Oh, where are you working?" Besides Alya, Nino, and Adrien, Marinette had not been excellent at following up with what her classmates did after high school. In fact, she'd even go so far as to say they'd almost completely dropped off her radar after that.

"I'm a chemist at Parfum Rosales," she said easily, and Marinette's eyebrows shot up. Even amongst other perfume companies, that was not an easy one to get into. "I love the work, but it can be a bit overwhelming, especially since I just got promoted which includes a ton more responsibilities."

Marinette gestured to the building. "Hence, Honeycomb, right?"

"Yep," Juleka popped the 'P'. "I've been coming here for years and it's really helped me through a lot." She nudged Marinette in the shoulder, smiling. "Wish there was one of these when we were growing up, huh?"

Marinette laughed, weakly. "Yeah."

Juleka frowned. "Come on, I'll introduce you to whichever counselor's on duty, today. I know 'em all by now."

Marinette waved her arms in front of her. "Oh, no. I don't think-"

Juleka grabbed her hand and started pulling her inside, ignoring her protests. "Come on. You always helped me when we were kids, now it's my turn."

They burst into the office, thankfully empty save for the girl at the front desk and Juleka practically carried Marinette over to her, smiling genially at the woman despite the kidnapping victim in her grasp. "Hey, Mandy. Who's on staff today?"

Marinette tried pulling her hand out from Juleka's iron grip, to no avail. "Why. Are. You. So. Strong?" She said between pulls before finally giving up, breathing heavily. "Aren't chemists supposed to be nerds?"

"Tell that to all the fifty pound barrels of chemicals I have to lug around all day," she said with a shrug. "Manufacturing gets machines, but I work down in testing. Sorry, Marinette, you're not getting out of this one."

Marinette was just weighing the benefits of sawing off her hand to escape versus transforming into Ladybug, revealing her secret identity, then using her super strength to escape, when Juleka began moving toward the office door.

"Thanks, Mandy," she called back to the woman at the desk, then swatted Marinette on the shoulder. "Could you relax? It's gonna be fine. God, you're worse than Rose whenever I drag her here."

They made it into the office and Juleka deposited her into a sinfully soft armchair that Marinette found herself sinking into against her will.

"Sorry about the fuss, Doctor B." Juleka apologized. "She was freaking out by the front door, I figured it'd be better to just get her in here."

"Thanks, Juleka, but in the future could you try not to abduct young women off the street? I would prefer not to make explanations to the police, and Rose probably won't appreciate it." The exasperated therapist outlined, rubbing her eyes with glasses in hand.

Juleka rubbed the back of her neck, embarrassed. "Yeah, didn't really think of that." She turned to Marinette with an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I've been trying to take more direct action in my life to help people, but I guess I took it a bit far, huh?"

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean you're not right," Marinette admitted. "I have been under a lot of stress, and I should try this, even if I'm not sure you can help me, Doctor... B, was it?"

Juleka's expression brightened. "Oh, yeah, Marinette, this is Doctor Chloe Bourgeois."

Marinette sat bolt upright in her chair. "Chloe?"

The Doctor's face was amused as she played with a pen, capping and uncapping it slowly. "Dupain-Cheng," she said with an emotion Marinette couldn't decipher. "It's been a while."

(:*:)

Of course it was Dupain-Cheng. Gabriel Agreste left his design studio during a critical time in the process for his new line because he was worried for one of his workers and of course it was Dupain-Cheng. Juleka Couffaine, normally a very level-headed young woman treated a visitor to the office with the same familiarity as her fiancee and of course it was Dupain-Cheng. It was always Dupain-Cheng.

Chloe's smile was plastic as Juleka left to wait in the next room. "So, I understand you're under a lot of pressure at work?"

"Chloe, we haven't seen each other in years and that's all you have to say?" Marinette said, clearly agitated. If they were back in school, Chloe might have derived some satisfaction from the state, but now it just made her tired.

"I'm sorry, oftentimes my clients want to get right to business," she took a moment before starting over, pushing everything personal to the back of her mind before flashing a bright smile. "Marinette, I haven't seen you since highschool, and Gabriel Agreste comes out into public, walks into my office and says he's worried about you? I don't know how your designs must be at this point, but I can see you haven't lost that famous Dupain-Cheng charisma. How's Alya?"

To say Marinette was thrown by the shift in demeanor was an understatement. If anyone else had done it, she would have been thrown, Chloe doing it metaphorically smashed her against the wall and threw her out the window. "Uh... Alya's fine," she eventually managed, her brain click-click-clicking away to no obvious result.

"When was the last time you talked to her?" Chloe asked, idly, leaning back in her chair.

Marinette did a quick bit of math. "Eight months ago?" She cringed, actually saying it out loud felt awful. "We've been really busy with our jobs."

"You've always been a hard worker," Chloe commented, her voice lacking the judgement Marinette was expecting to hear after basically admitting she'd ditched her best friend. "Do you like your job?"

"Oh, it's incredible. Everything I've ever wanted is there, the facilities, the fabric, Gabriel Agreste even gives me advice and notes on my designs. I couldn't ask for a better job," she gushed.

"But it's also stressful?" Chloe asked, and Marinette sunk down further into the sofa.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "It's... how can I say this?" She put a hand to her chin, biting her lip for a minute as she thought, and Chloe didn't interrupt. "Well, I love this job; I really do, and I have to be perfect while I'm doing it, but that's fine. That's what I signed up for. It's just, I have this other thing I do, and it's kind of like a job, and it's really important and I have to be perfect at that, too."

Marinette sighed, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes until she saw spots. "Before, I could manage it, but as I get farther in designing, and my hours get longer and longer, I'm worried. I know I can't be perfect every hour of the day, I just can't. But messing up in my job means I might lose the career I've been dreaming of since I was a little girl, and messing up in the other thing could be even worse." She groaned. "I don't want to lose either of them, either side of me. So what should I do?"

Chloe put the cap back on her pen with a snap, breathed in deeply and began talking. "I can see you love both of these jobs quite a lot and you take pride in your work. I can also see how terrified you are of failing in either of these jobs, and while fear of failure isn't necessarily bad, it sounds like you've constructed setbacks in these jobs in your mind as something akin to the end of the world. Let me pass along a bit of advice that was given to me: 'anyone can make mistakes; what matters is how you fix them.'"

The quote rattled in Marinette's brain, sounding familiar but not quite fitting anywhere. "Who told you that?" She asked.

"Ladybug," Chloe answered, expression far away for a moment before she returned to the matter at hand. "And I actually truncated the quote, a bit. What she really said was, 'anyone can make mistakes, even superheroes. What matters is how you fix them.' So if Paris' finest superhero can afford a few flubs, why don't you cut yourself a little more slack?"

Marinette's brain stuttered to a stop at those words, the click-click-clicking going silent. After a moment, her mouth opened and, "you really think Ladybug is Paris' finest superhero?" Was all she could say.

"No, I think Ladybug is the world's finest superhero," Chloe elaborated with a smirk. "But that tends to start more arguments, so I usually say Paris."

Marinette laughed, but after a moment the action warped into a sob and she found herself crying, uncontrollably.

There was a shuffle, and a moment later she felt Chloe's arms wrap around her, squeezing her tightly. "Hey, hey, it's okay, alright? You're okay. You're all good." Chloe mumbled similar assurances in her ear, sometimes repeating, never rising above a soft whisper as Marinette cried herself out.

"Sorry," Marinette croaked, throat dry, and Chloe dashed off for a second, retrieving a box of tissues and a glass of water.

"I'll tell you what: as soon as you do something bad, I'll let you say sorry," Chloe chided, handing the two objects over.

"Thanks, Chloe." She drank the water in big gulps, choking on one and spluttering water over herself she dabbed at with a tissue. "Oh, god. I'm such a freaking mess."

Chloe put Marinette's usage of 'freaking' on the backburner for a moment, focusing on the problem at hand. "So you're not perfect. The world hasn't ended, you haven't lost your job, or your almost-job, and no one's gotten hurt."

Marinette looked around the room, eyes widened in fear for a moment, before centering on Chloe again. "There's no Akuma."

"It'd be a pretty sorry Akuma prevention office otherwise," Chloe answered, dryly.

Marinette relaxed. "I still can't believe it's you." Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, eyes wide again when she realized she'd said it out loud.

Chloe folded her arms across her chest, one eyebrow raised. "Now you can say sorry." Marinette waved her arms in front of her, stammering apologies when Chloe laughed. "I'm joking, you're totally fine. Sometimes it's hard to believe, myself."

"What... happened?" Marinette shook her head. "I'm sorry. That was rude."

"You're really not keeping up with this 'when you do something bad, I'll let you say sorry,' thing, huh?" She gave a half shrug. "Nothing 'happened' we just grew up. You got your dream job designing, and I got this," Chloe gestured to the office around them.

"I guess I just expected you to be mayor or something," Marinette admitted.

"Or maybe head of a fashion magazine?" Chloe asked, rhetorically. "Not everyone grows up to be their parents, Marinette, and honestly I'm glad I didn't. Besides, I would've made a terrible mayor."

"Why?" Marinnete couldn't help but ask.

Chloe tapped the side of her head with a wan smile. "I got a bug in my brain, Dupain-Cheng. It wouldn't have been good."

There was something in the way she said it that made Marinette shiver. The tone was warm, but the feeling was a blistering cold, like there was no emotion behind it at all.

Chloe checked her wristwatch, moving to stand. "We've probably made Juleka wait long enough," she remarked, extending a hand and helping Marinette to her feet. "It's important for you to know that you will mess up from time to time, and that's okay. In the meantime, I'd also advise you carve some time aside from your responsibilities to be with your family and friends. It'll be easier for you not to strain so hard to be perfect in these lower pressure environments." They walked out the door into the waiting room, where Juleka was still patiently waiting. "If you have any more questions, you're feeling overwhelmed, or just need someone to talk to, the office is open twenty-four hours; please come by again."

"Thanks, Chloe," Marinette said, already feeling better after the talk and the cry. "You've really helped me a whole lot. I appreciate it."

"Our door is always open," she said with a courteous smile.

Marinette thanked her again, then Juleka, and the woman at the front desk before leaving, a spring in her step that wasn't there before.

Chloe turned to Juleka. "I'll be ready in one minute, just going to tidy up one or two things, alright?" Juleka answered in the affirmative and Chloe walked back into her office and carefully shut the door.

The tissues Marinette had been using were thrown in the trash, and the box replaced on Chloe's desk. The cup, she took in the bathroom and carefully rinsed out and dried before also placing it on her desk.

There was a drop of water left, even after drying, and she watched it slowly creep down the side of the glass. Her mouth felt dry, her palms felt itchy, still she watched the drop.

'What happened?' Marinette's words echoed in her head.

'I guess I just expected you to be mayor or something.'

'I'm sorry.'

'I'm sorry.'

'I'm sorry.'

Chloe threw the glass against the wall, watching it shatter.

A minute passed. Two. Finally, she forcefully leveled her breathing, adjusted her outfit once again and opened the door. "Juleka? Sorry about the wait, come on in. I understand you got promoted recently? Congratulations, how do you feel?"

The door clicked shut behind them, not an Akuma in sight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a monster to write, but it wouldn't leave me alone until I finished it. Thankfully, figuring out what jobs characters would have in the future continues to be fun.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

By the time a week had passed, the visit from Dupain-Cheng had all but faded from Chloe's memory. There had been four more Akuma attacks, which meant not only some of those new victims, but also a host of old ones, their memories spurred by the latest villainous plot, had decided to come by the office.

Dupain-Cheng was a one-off, a fluke. These Akuma attacks inevitably happened every week. It was no wonder Chloe had nearly forgotten about it by the time Alya walked in.

Alya's sneakers never matched the rest of her. She wore a professional button up with a jacket and tie, a skirt in the same color, and her hair was tied into a clean bun instead of the messy waves from her school days. But her sneakers were muddy, the colors faded to a dull gray, and the rough knots that tied the laces together were a testament to function over form.

She looked nice. It was a far sight better than plaid, at the very least, but aside from the sneakers, her appearance didn't match her personality. Alya was dirty, Alya was daring, Alya was the definition of function over form, but Alya was also a reporter. The dress code was enforced.

She sank into the couch, lying down as Chloe prepared a fresh page in her notepad.

"You seem distressed," she observed. "I hope you weren't hurt in the attacks."

Alya waved a hand. "A few scratches, maybe, nothing serious. I... do you remember Lady Wifi?"

She did, though there was no particular reason she should have. Alya's Akumatized form was only one of many who had attempted to kill her. "Do you?"

"No, I don't," she said quickly, rising halfway off the couch before forcing herself to lie down again. "But, this last Akuma, Darkan Stormy?"

"Those names are getting worse," Chloe muttered to herself, taking notes.

"It was this writer who had his work rejected by a publisher. He wasn't even really a threat, Ladybug and Chat Noir took him down just fine, but there was this thing he did where he'd teleport from one book to another..." Alya bit her lip, her eyes closed in remembrance. "I still don't remember being Akumatized, and there isn't even a lot of footage I can work from since, well, 'I' wasn't there to film it. But when I saw him do that, teleporting between books I just thought, 'I did that.'" She laughed, hollowly. "It's pretty stupid, getting so worked up over something that happened when I was just a kid, huh?"

"You are a reporter," Chloe observed. "Your dream job. Do you really think without the Ladyblog, you would have gotten the position?"

"Probably not," Alya admitted.

"What you do now matters, but what you've done before matters too. It's these events in our lives that build us into the people we become, for better or worse. Wondering what you were as an Akuma, what you'd done, I don't think it's stupid at all." Chloe finished the note she was writing with a flourish of her pen. "But it doesn't really matter what I think. What do you think?"

She sighed, eyes opening, and shifted her legs so she could sit up and look Chloe in the eye. "I guess it's not stupid. But what am I supposed to do? Even if I did remember, there's nothing I could do to take it back. I just have to live with it."

"You feel like it's your fault?"

"Of course it's my fault," Alya shouted. "I let Hawkmoth get into my head. I went after you, and Ladybug, and Chat Noir. What part of that isn't my fault?"

Chloe hummed, considering for a few moments. "Well, it definitely could be your fault. After all, you did let Hawkmoth into your head, and you took a picture of the inside of my locker that got you suspended. There's also a good argument it was my fault, one I'm sure Ladybug and Chat Noir have made over the years. I was the one who got you suspended, after all. It could be Nino's fault for distracting me, or Principal Damocles for bending to the will of a teenager, or my father's for giving me so much power over others. Taking another step back, it could be Ladybug and Chat Noir's fault for not simply surrendering their Miraculouses sooner."

"It is not Ladybug or Chat Noir's fault," she said, decisively. "They can't give their Miraculouses to Hawkmoth, he's evil. He-"

"Turns innocent civilians against them?" Chloe finished for her. "Innocent civilians like you?"

Alya gaped, struck dumb by the question.

"If I were Hawkmoth, I'd have figured out by now that the odds of any single Akuma beating Ladybug and Chat Noir at this point were pretty low, but I'd keep making them anyway because the more people focus on how long it's been, how long it's going to be. The more they think about their pain or how little they can trust their own feelings, the more pressure gets put on Ladybug." Her pen clicked, sheathing the point and she gripped both ends, peering over it at Alya. "If you could stop the Akuma attacks right now, would you?"

"Of course," she answered, quickly.

"According to Hawkmoth, Ladybug and Chat Noir have that power. At any time, they could surrender their Miraculouses and the attacks would end." Chloe privately enjoyed the way Alya jumped out of her seat, outraged, but she didn't let any of it show on her face.

"Ladybug and Chat Noir are the only ones protecting us from Hawkmoth. Take away their Miraculouses and he can do whatever he wants to the city, to the world, even. I can't believe you-" Chloe interrupted her before the rant could get out of hand.

"Alya, I agree with you."

Alya's words stuttered to a stop. "You do?"

Chloe chuckled, lightly. "Of course I do. Hawkmoth is a terrorist, and once he realizes he can get one thing through the threat of Akumas, he'll never stop." She stood and walked over to Layla, laying a hand on her shoulder. "But when people are in pain, they don't always think clearly. They lash out, blame others," she gave Alya a pointed look. "Blame themselves, even when they shouldn't."

Alya was silent, considering the words for a while as she sat back down on the couch. When she felt the silence had stretched far enough, Chloe retook her chair and spoke again.

"So, you've been coming here for almost two years and this is the first time you've actually talked about Lady Wifi. Why now?" Chloe asked, clicking her pen once more.

Alya hesitated, before eventually mumbling. "Nino and I are taking a break." When Chloe didn't respond, she gave a halfhearted shrug. "I guess since then, I've been trying to figure out what's wrong with me, and when I saw Darkan Stormy do that trick with the books, I thought I figured it out."

"Getting Akumatized isn't wrong," Chloe said, gently. "Having feelings isn't wrong."

"I know." She sighed. "It's just, sometimes I'm so worried about getting Akumatized again, I wish I couldn't feel anything."

"It's always better to feel something." Chloe's voice was forceful, brokering no argument. "Besides, I trust Ladybug enough to stop you, even if worst comes to worst."

Alya laughed, wiping her eyes of unshed tears. "Thanks, Doctor B."

The session ended a few minutes later, and Chloe walked out of her office with Alya, locking the door behind her before coming face to face with Dupain-Cheng.

"Oh, Alya, hi," she said, awkwardly. "I left you a voicemail, last week. Did you get it?"

Alya slapped her forehead. "Oh, god, Marinette. I completely spaced. Yeah, I got it, and yes we should totally meet up. Sorry about that."

Marinette waved a hand. "It's no big, really. Sorry I kind of disappeared for a while, there."

Yes, yes. We're all sorry. All very sorry, Chloe managed not to say out loud in as sarcastic a tone as possible as she began shimmying past the two girls in the tight hall.

"Oh, Chloe, I actually wanted to see you," Marinette said before the blonde could fully escape.

"I'm actually on my way to a meeting right now, but there's another counselor in that office there named Soren O'Brien, who can help you as soon as he's done seeing the person with him now." Chloe gave her a courteous smile as Marinette's face fell the tiniest amount.

"Okay, sorry. I didn't even realize counselors had meetings together." Marinette scratched the back of her neck, embarrassed.

Chloe raised an eyebrow. Was she serious? This was Marinette she was talking about, of course she was serious. "It's not a counselor meeting, but I appreciate your understanding." She finally managed to extricate herself from the conversation and leave, though she heard Marinette quietly ask herself.

"What kind of meeting is it, then?" And Chloe could only shake her head at her former classmate's antics.

Same old Marinette, she thought. You haven't changed a bit. Chloe slid her keys into her car's ignition and drove away.

(:*:)

Adrien Agreste had practiced many things. From an early age, his affluent father had gifted him a great many hobbies and tutors in the hope that the growing boy would occupy himself doing something productive rather than grow lazy in his absence.

Fencing, piano, rock climbing, modeling, as well as a variety of skills for entertaining and being a proper French gentleman, were all provided courtesy of his father.

On his own, he managed to acquire other skills his father approved of far less: making friends, real friends instead of the schmoozing of political allies his father stressed, being a superhero, which his father did not and would not ever know about if Adrien had anything to say about it, and of most importance at that moment, sneaking away from his bodyguards.

He had a photoshoot in fifteen minutes, he'd already decided to skip. There was nothing particularly wrong with it, and not an Akuma attack in sight, but every once and a while he got bored and decided to skive off whatever responsibilities he'd had thrust upon him that day. Of course, lately, 'every once in a while,' was becoming more and more often.

Adrien smiled from the back of a double decker tour bus he'd jumped on only a few moments before, looking out the window at his frazzled assistant and annoyed bodyguard. He'd gotten awfully good at slipping away by that point. All it took was a moment. "Well, Plagg. We're out on the town again. What do you want to do?"

The Kwami peeked out from his jacket, putting a paw in front of his mouth and yawning. "You know, it was cute the first couple times, but now it's starting to get pathetic."

"Don't be such a spoilsport, Plagg," Adrien chastised, getting off the bus and walking into the streets of Paris.

"Talk to your father," Plagg pressed, groaning. "It's like you humans are allergic to confrontation."

"If my father has a problem with what I'm doing, he can come and talk to me, himself," Adrien answered with no small amount of venom. "Now, in the meantime, we've got the whole city of Paris to explore. What do you think, a club?"

"What clubs are you expecting to be open at eleven-thirty in the morning?" Plagg asked, dryly.

Adrien shrugged. "We could always just transform and jump around the city for a while."

Plagg snuggled into his jacket pocket and went to sleep, communicating what he thought of that idea quite clearly.

"Be that way," Adrien mumbled, walking aimlessly down the sidewalk.

He passed bakeries and groceries, antique stores and office buildings, art galleries and hotels. This was Paris, to him; this life of all the people walking by, all with their own dreams and wishes, not the constant socializing and modeling his father demanded.

Adrien's mood soured and, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, he walked some more.

He only got a few blocks down the road when a cry from a nearby alley attracted his attention. "Wake up, Plagg," he whispered skulking closer. "It might be hero time."

"What's your name?" A woman's voice crawled from the alley, calm, and sickeningly sweet, but with a dangerous edge.

There was another cry of pain before a man answered. "Norman, it's Norman. My name is Norman Travers, god, please let me go."

"Do you have friends, Norman? Little crime buddies that try to mug people in alleys? How about you tell me their names next." It wasn't a question. It was a command.

Adrien peeked his head around the corner, trying to get a look at the scene. A woman was kneeling over a man lying flat on the ground, one arm pinned beneath him, the other twisted around his back. With every delay in answering, she twisted the arm further, until it was on the verge of breaking.

"I don't know nobody," Norman protested, then cried out again as she put more pressure on the arm.

"That's a double negative, Norman. Now is not the time to be ridiculous," she chastised, and Adrien blinked.

Ridiculous?

"Chloe?" He didn't even realize he'd said it out loud until the woman's head shot up and she shot him a bashful smile.

"Adrikins," she chirped, dropping the arm and letting the would-be mugger recover for a few moments. "Give me a hand, would you? There's a police car just down the road."

Already feeling out of his depth, Adrien numbly complied, helping her tie her victim's hands and legs with zip ties she just happened to have, and carrying him on his back, fireman style, toward the direction she indicated. Chloe, meanwhile, took out a handkerchief and picked up a switchblade off the ground, Adrien guessed 'Norman' had used to try and frighten her.

"It's incredible the utter state Paris has gotten into nowadays, don't you think?" Chloe commented as they left the alley, hopefully toward some manner of law enforcement.

Adrien raised an eyebrow, worriedly. "Chloe, are you alright? What you did back there seemed kind of extreme."

She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "Don't be ridiculous, Adrien. I was simply performing my civic duty." Her eyes flicked over to him. "No escort, today?"

"I might have sneaked off?" he gave an embarrassed grin.

She passed him a business card. "Give your assistant one of these. It sounds like she needs it."

His expression fell when he read it. "Honeycomb. I didn't know you worked there, now."

"Someone has to," she said, hollowly.

Adrien shifted the position of the man on his back. "I'm sorry about what hap-"

"Drop it," Chloe snapped. "I'm not in the mood."

They walked in silence until they reached the police car, looking through the windows to find it empty.

"Looks like nobody's home," Adrien commented.

"Christ, Chlo, I leave you for two minutes and you come back with a kidnapping victim?" A new voice called out, walking across the street towards them, carrying a box from the bakery they were just inside.

Chloe examined her nails, giving a half shrug. "Is it my fault if Paris is crawling with criminals?"

The police officer was shorter than both of them, with short-cut red hair and bright blue eyes. "Criminal?" She turned to face Norman. "You tried to mug her?"

"Please, take me in, I'll go to jail, or whatever, just don't leave me with her. She's crazy," he pleaded with the officer and she rubbed the bridge of her nose with two fingers, annoyed.

"How could you have possibly gotten mugged in the time it took me to buy eclairs?" She asked Chloe, already defeated by the situation.

"Just doing my part for a safer Paris," she replied, giving a faux-salute and big smile like she was in an ad campaign.

The officer grumbled, sliding Norman into the back of the car.

"You two know each other?" Adrien ventured, hoping to get at least some answers.

The officer actually turned to look at him for the first time. "Adrien Agreste?" He felt his stomach clench as he waited for the inevitable freakout or autograph request. "How've you been? I haven't seen you since high school."

He squinted his eyes at the officer, helplessly, before Chloe came to his rescue. "I don't think he's seen you without dyed hair, Alix."

Adrien looked again. Alix, blue eyes, dyed hair, from high school... "Alix Kubdel?" He asked, disbelievingly.

"Should I be offended by that reaction?" She said aloud, to no one in particular.

"Not worth it," Chloe advised.

Alix shrugged, grinning at the still-confused Adrien. "Anyway, you got me. Guess I look a little different in uniform, huh?"

"If I'm being honest, I never thought you'd wear one," Adrien admitted, scratching the back of his head.

"If it makes you feel any better, she's crooked," Chloe said, deadpan.

Alix slapped her arm. "Brat." She turned to Adrien, hurriedly assuring him. "I'm not, for the record. Chloe just sucks at jokes."

"Anyone's sense of humor would suffer after they'd just been mugged," Chloe answered, melodramatically. Then her voice became deadpan again as she handed over her wrapped handkerchief. "This is the knife he used, by the way."

Adrien's eyes narrowed when he saw dots of red covering the white cloth. "Chloe, turn around."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"He got you, didn't he?" Chloe was a good liar, and it seemed she'd gotten even better. But even when they were kids, she couldn't fool him.

She knew it, too. "It's a scratch."

"If it was a scratch, you'd have already shown it to me," he countered, taking a step forward.

Alix's hand fell on his shoulder, stopping him. "I'll take her to the hospital, alright? No need to get upset."

Upset? Adrien shook his head. He wasn't upset. But he was sweating. He could feel himself shaking. Looking down, he saw red marks on his palms where he'd clenched his hands into fists so tightly his nails had dug into the skin. How did he get this way so quickly, without even realizing it?

He forced a laugh. "Sorry. I guess I got a little carried away." It sounded fake, even to him.

"We were just about to have lunch," Alix offered. "Do you want to come with, after we get Chloe looked at?"

He was tired, but he couldn't think of any reason to say no. "Sure."

Alix nodded once, sharply, placed the knife in an evidence bag, went through the criminal's rights, and asked Adrien to wait in the bakery for their return from the hospital and police station.

"Plagg," he whispered, crossing the street. "What just happened?"

"Do you mean besides freaking out when you realized Chloe got stabbed?" Plagg asked back. "What's the matter? I thought it was normal for humans to get worked up over stuff like that."

Adrien shook his head, feeling a tightness in his chest. "Forget about it. I'm probably just a bit stressed, that's all."

He walked into the bakery, hearing the bell jangle to herald his entrance. It was nice, well cared for, if a little empty-seeming. It wasn't without customers. Far from it, the place seemed fairly popular, but there was a stillness to the air that unsettled him, somehow.

This place has changed.

The thought came to him, unbidden, and he found himself looking around again, with a new eye. Had he really been there before?

"Monsieur?" The girl at the counter called, looking right at him. "Can I help you?"

"C-coffee," he stuttered, moving to the counter. "With cream, and a croissant, please."

His hands were still shaking when he went to pay the bill.

Stop shaking, he commanded.

He sat down at an empty table in the corner as the girl brought his coffee and pastry.

Stop shaking, he ordered.

People were starting to stare. There were whispers as he was recognized. He burned his hand on the coffee when he tried to pick up the cup.

Stop shaking, he asked.

His eyes slid around the room, at the furniture, at the walls, trying to remember when he'd been there before, but he couldn't. A few of the patrons began taking photos, their smartphones flashing in his eyes.

Stop shaking, he pleaded.

One of them stood, walking toward him with her camera raised. She moved with slow, deliberate steps, the practiced art of a journalist. "Excuse me, are you Adrien Agreste?"

He ran.

(:*:)

Marinette was just leaving Honeycomb when Tikki flew out of her bag. "Chat Noir is trying to call you. It must be urgent."

Marinette squared her shoulders, running into an alley, shouting, "Tikki, spots on." A few moments later, it was Ladybug who ran out of it, swinging onto a rooftop and opening her yoyo. "Chat, what's going on?"

"Can you meet me on the Arc de Triomphe?" He asked, voice clearly strained. "No Akuma, I just... really need your help."

She wanted to ask more questions, but she only gave a stiff nod instead. "I'll be there in five." She closed the yoyo and swung it again, already plotting her swift route to the monument.

Four and a half minutes of high-speed rooftop traveling later, she was on the famous arch, setting down right beside an almost manic-looking Chat. If he truly were a cat, she'd be worried he'd gone feral.

"Ladybug." He jumped to his feet. "Man, am I glad to see you." His legs suddenly wobbled and he fell to his knees. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Hey, hey, it's okay." She helped him sit down again, and did the same beside him. "What happened?"

"A friend of mine got hurt by a mugger. It probably wasn't even that bad, but she wouldn't show it to me, and I didn't even realize how upset I was getting. I tried to laugh it off, go somewhere else, but my hands wouldn't stop shaking." They were shaking, even then. "You can set everything that happens during an Akuma attack right again, but all it takes is a knife in an alley to do something irreversible. What kind of superheroes are we if we can't even protect our friends?" He laughed, bitterly. "What kind of superhero am I if I can't even stop my hands from shaking?"

Ladybug didn't have an answer.

A cold breeze brushed past them, and he shivered. "I don't want to become an Akuma, but I don't know how to stop it."

Ladybug put her hand over his, their fingers lacing together. "Hey, it's okay. I'm here, right?" She gave a confident smile. "You're not going to get Akumatized today."

He managed a tentative smile in return and held out his other hand for her to similarly grab, the shaking quieting under her gentle grip.

"We'll make mistakes," she soothed gently, repeating the sentiment Chloe had given her right when she'd needed it most. "We'll screw up, and sometimes that means people get hurt. That's the cost of being human. But no matter how many times we mess up, fall down, fail, we will always save the day. We have to. That's the cost of being a superhero."

"What if I wasn't a superhero? What if I took the ring off right now and threw it as far away as I could?" She squeezed his hands tighter, knowing he'd never do it.

"A knife in an alley is the same either way." Chat stiffened at her words for a moment, then sighed.

"The cost of being a superhero, huh?" He asked, and she nodded, smiling.

"Hey, Chat?" She asked.

"Yeah?"

"Your hands aren't shaking anymore." Her expression was so pure, so happy, he couldn't help but smile back.

"I love you, Ladybug," he whispered.

She slowly released her fingers, lying down on her back, the Arc de Triomphe her only cushion. "I know, Chat."

They stayed there for a while, until Chat's grumbling stomach and Ladybug's pressing need to return to her work forced them to part once again.

She was swinging through the air again, feeling the wind rustle her hair, going so fast she could hardly see. It was so close to flying, she never got bored of it. Every throw of the yoyo, every landing to the next roof and the next and the next, happened almost on automatic. More than anything else, it gave her time to think.

Why was this happening now? They hadn't fought anyone particularly strong or personal of late, at least on her end. But Nathalie had practically begged her to go to Honeycomb, and now Chat had a meltdown? Had they just been doing this too long, or could this be the work of an Akuma they didn't even know existed?

Now that was a scary thought.

If she'd never gone to Honeycomb, if Chat had called her and she didn't have the words to make him calm down, the results could have been disastrous. She didn't want to even imagine what an Akumatized Chat would be like.

On the other hand, if she'd never gone to Honeycomb, maybe she'd have ended up the one Akumatized. She'd be the first to admit her mental state only a week before had been more... fragile than was healthy.

A frown stole its way across her face.

Soren O'Brien was good at his job, clearly, but her session with him left her dissatisfied, nonetheless. He kept asking questions, making random segues, while she was trying to explain, and it was hard enough putting her words in order without being interrupted. With Chloe, she already knew things about her without even needing to ask. She knew about Alya, and Adrien, and her dreams of being a fashion designer. She knew about the constant Akuma attacks and how it just wore away at everyone until it felt like sometimes people got Akumatized cause they just couldn't take it anymore. Chloe understood.

But why was it Chloe? The question bothered her, still. Chloe was petty. Chloe was mean. Chloe was only ever interested in herself. So why was Chloe a therapist? More than that, why was she a therapist for Akuma prevention when it seemed like, in school, she spent almost as much time making Akumas as Hawkmoth?

Then there was her response when she'd asked why she wouldn't have been a good mayor. 'I've got a bug in my brain, Dupain-Cheng,' she'd said. What did that mean?

Ladybug landed on an alley fire escape, transforming back into Marinette. "Too many questions," she mumbled.

Tikki floated lazily around her head. Using Lucky Charm always took the most out of the Kwami, but transforming at all took its toll. "Questions about what?"

"Chloe," Marinette answered, absently.

"Why?" Tikki asked.

Marinette groaned. "Because she makes no sense. How can a person change that much, Tikki? I don't understand it."

Tikki laughed, the high pitched tone sounding like a wind chime. "A lot of things don't make sense, Marinette. Why worry about this?"

She was right. Tikki usually was. But Marinette couldn't let it go because, "Chloe never makes sense," she protested, like Tikki could somehow fix it. "Even when we were kids, I never understood why she was mean to me, mean to everyone, why even Akuma after Akuma, she never stopped, and now? She's the complete opposite. All that money, all that family influence and she's sitting in a tiny office helping people. Is there something I'm missing, Tikki?"

"Maybe she finally realized all the pain she had caused people, and wanted to help them instead," Tikki offered, brightly.

Marinette was unconvinced. "Maybe..."

They walked out of the alley as Marinette checked her phone, blinking at all the missed calls and messages. She called her mom back first, heart pounding with worry.

The phone rang a few times before Sabine picked up. "Marinette, where were you?"

"I was at work, mama, what happened?" Her mother's voice sounded concerned, never a good sign.

"That friend of yours, Adrien, was at the bakery today. I was just about to come out of the back and see him when he ran out. Have you talked to him at all recently? I must say, he did not look well." Sabine's voice was crisp and clear through the phone's speakers, her smartphone being one of the few things Marinette had splurged on, but the words were garbled in her brain.

The truth was, she hadn't talked to Adrien in years. They'd drifted apart, just like she had with everyone else. What had happened to all her relationships? All those friends she swore she'd never forget?

Marinette shook her head. She had other problems at the moment.

Adrien in the bakery. Why? And him not looking well could mean anything from a stomachache to a head injury. She loved her mother, but Sabine had a habit of being vague. "No, but I'll call him now. Thanks for the heads up, mama." They exchanged a quick goodbye and Marinette swiped through her contacts until she found the elusive Adrien Agreste one, clicking into it to call.

It rang, and rang, then rang some more. "Hey, you've reached Adrien Agreste. I'm probably at a shoot right now, but if you leave a message I'll be sure to get back to you," his voicemail responded. There was a beep and a message his inbox was full before she hung up the phone.

Looking at her missed calls again, Marinette clicked on Alya's name.

She picked up on the first ring. "Marinette, have you talked to Adrien yet?"

That wasn't good. She recognized that tone as Alya's reporter voice. "What happened?"

"What happened was that he had a major meltdown in your parent's bakery. I've been trying to get a hold of him, but there's a good chance he's already gone Akuma." Marinette winced at the words. Alya was never one to pull punches, but that was particularly brutal. "I'm still waiting to get beeped, but if there's an Akuma called 'The Modeler' or 'Catwalker' we've got a pretty good idea what we're dealing with."

Marinette felt her stomach clench. Even after all this time, it was hard fighting people she knew. She didn't know about Chat, whether it was some quirk of the Miraculous magic or not, but while most people only saw the monster when faced with an Akuma, she saw more. No matter how twisted their appearance became, how monstrous or deformed, Marinette could always tell who it was.

"I'll keep calling him," she assured Alya, hanging up the phone.

She tried calling him four more times on the way to her design studio, eventually turning the ringer up as loud as it would go in case he called her back. She arrived in the building, showed her ID card at the front, and set back to work on the Winter line. After a few minutes sitting in silence, she also turned on the small television she had in the corner, flipping it to the news before returning to work.

Hours passed. No Akuma. No phone call.

Marinette slept, a roll of fabric her blanket as the quiet voice of the television washed over her.

(:*:)

The light from the open door filtered into the otherwise pitch black apartment as Chloe and Alix walked in.

"Some day, huh?" Alix enthused, flicking on a light switch.

"It always is," Chloe agreed. She took off her coat and hung it up, before throwing herself onto the couch, picking up a remote and turning the TV on.

"Milk?" Alix asked.

"Fridge."

"Whiskey?"

"Hilarious," Chloe deadpanned. And Alix thought her jokes weren't funny.

Alix returned from the fridge, milk in hand, and found a spinny chair to sit in, drinking from the carton.

Chloe didn't even need to look away from the TV to say, "that's disgusting."

Alix scoffed, genially. "Like you even drink milk."

Chloe only hummed, vaguely, in response, not refuting it.

"Who do you think Adrien talked to, to make him calm down that much?" Alix asked, taking another swig of milk.

"Who cares?" Chloe shot back. Alix had seen her without the mask enough times, she didn't feel the need to pretend as much around her, especially so close to the end of the day. "Dupain-Cheng, probably," Chloe said after a minute. She didn't care, but the answer was obvious enough

"Pssh, no way." Alix waved a hand, dismissing the idea. "No girl can hold a torch for a guy that long, even if he is a supermodel. And I know they're not dating."

Chloe sighed, attention still focused on the television. It was some random cooking show, Halloween themed, so she knew it was a rerun. "Is there a reason they couldn't just be friends?"

Alix clicked her tongue. "The only chance of that would be if she were dating someone else right now. Do you know if she is?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Shockingly, I don't keep track of Dupain-Cheng's love life."

"You know, you could call her Marinette like literally everyone else," Alix pointed out.

"I could do a lot of things." Chloe turned off the TV. "That doesn't mean I'm going to."

Alix slid the milk back into the fridge as Chloe stood and stretched. "You mind if I crash on the couch tonight?"

Chloe waved a hand, walking into the next room. "Use the cover."

Alix fixed the couch cover over her impromptu bed. It was in the same place it was last time. Chloe was nothing if not organized. Well, there were always exceptions.

She walked into the room Chloe was, hugging her arms to herself as she looked at all the pictures pinned to the walls. Some were drawings, sketches going from rough to crisper and clearer through their endless repetition. Others were photographs, snippets taken from news or amateur blogs. Akumas, butterflies, Hawkmoth. It was like Chloe had built a shrine, this whole room dedicated to one man. The only thing not about him was a computer and printer up against one wall, with a smaller picture, blurry from the zoom, of Ladybug's earrings and Chat Noir's ring taped to it.

"Have I ever mentioned how creepy this room is?" Alix asked.

There were no windows, the only light came from the computer screen as Chloe clicked through security camera footage she wasn't legally supposed to have access to, her left hand furiously scribbling notes as she watched. "Every time you see it, yeah," Chloe answered, distracted.

Alix sighed, helplessly. "Promise you won't spend all night in here?"

"Goodnight, Alix," was her only response.

The door shut quietly behind her, leaving Chloe alone, surrounded on all sides by darkness. She spared a look at the door as Alix left, before returning to work once again. It didn't matter if she stayed up all night for it. Didn't even matter if it took years. This desperation, this desire to win above all else, she understood Hawkmoth better than anyone else.

Chloe smiled, none of the plastic expressions she used so often during the day, a thrill of genuine happiness appearing on her face. "Your Miraculous will be mine," she promised.

Chloe worked into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated the tags with the way the story is going. Sorry if you've been bamboozled, but the characters just gave me the memo, today.

Marinette blinked at Chloe from the parking lot, confused. Chloe looked back, a large, bloody, cotton bandage in her hand, she'd just removed from her shoulder. The sign for the Honeycomb center stood behind her, like it, too, was watching the scene unfold.

"Dupain-Cheng," Chloe acknowledged with a nod, taking a few steps forward to dump the bandage in a nearby trashcan. "Sorry if the sight of blood makes you squeamish. It's a very common reaction."

After a few more moments of staring, Marinette finally processed what she saw. "Chloe, you're bleeding."

"I was bleeding," she corrected. "It's a consequence of being stabbed."

Marinette's eyes widened. "You were stabbed?" She shouted.

"I was stabbed. I went to the hospital. Situation handled." She turned, muttering. "Don't know why everyone has to make such a fuss."

"What happened? Does it hurt?" Chloe's blase, almost annoyed, response was just another mystery to add to the pile Marinette was steadily accruing about the blonde.

"It's a stab wound, why wouldn't it hurt?" She asked, rhetorically.

It was only a moment, Chloe's annoyance shone through clearly, but that was enough. In that moment, Chloe looked at Marinette like she didn't even consider her a person, just a bug that had wandered under her boot, and it wasn't a question of if she would crush her, but how much it would hurt. She'd seen that expression so often when they were in school, and she never understood it. Even now, seeing that expression, knowing what it meant, she still couldn't understand. How could someone look at another human being that way, as something so worthless?

Then, like a switch was flipped, the expression was gone, Chloe was gone, and the comforting, happy, Doctor B had taken her place. "I'm sorry, Marinette. I didn't mean to get snippy, it's just been a long couple of days. I'm going to grab lunch, but O'Brien and Willert are inside if you wanted to see someone."

"Oh, actually, I wanted to talk to you about something," Chloe stopped walking. "Do you mind if I get lunch with you? It's not a counseling thing."

There was a hesitation, but it didn't even last a second. "Sure," she answered, agreeably. "We'll take my car, okay?"

Chloe's car was pale yellow, and the textbook definition of average. If it was lined up side by side with even five other cars, there'd be no guarantee Marinette would be able to pick it out as belonging to her. The inside was clean, but not new, with only a black duffel bag in the backseat to indicate it was used by anyone at all.

Marinette gingerly stepped into the passenger side, buckling herself in as Chloe did the same. Awkward didn't even begin to cover it.

"I hope you like Indian food," the blonde said once she started driving.

Marinette shrugged. "That's fine." Really, she found Indian food too spicy for the most part, but she was already pushing her luck asking to come with Chloe to lunch at all. It wasn't like they were friends. "How long is your lunch break? I really don't want to get you in trouble."

Chloe laughed, turning a corner down a side street Marinette had never been down before, at least, as Marinette. "Worried I'll lose my job? Don't be. I'm friends with the owner, so job security isn't much of an issue."

That... was a terrible way of thinking about it. It was also none of her business, so Marinette decided to drop it. "Is she the reason you became a counselor?"

Her hands tightened their grip on the steering wheel, like she was upset, but when she turned toward Marinette again she just smiled. "Yep."

She was lying.

This was a bad idea, Marinette decided. She had basically just got into a car with a stranger with no idea where they were going or what she would do.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Chloe asked, her eyes forward, looking out to the road once more as she weaved her way through the shadier parts of Paris.

Marinette bit her lip. Now or never. "Yesterday I got a call from my mom, then Alya, that Adrien had a kind of freak out in my parents' bakery. I was really worried, and I tried calling him, but he never picked up. I was hoping you'd talked to him more recently than I have, maybe you know more about how he's doing."

She expected Chloe to go on one of those rants like she had when they were in school, about how she and 'Adrikins' were made for each other, and that 'you should just stay away, Dupain-Cheng.' But she didn't. She just quirked an eyebrow and asked, "why do you feel like it's your responsibility when someone gets Akumatized?"

The question sliced through Marinette's mind, cutting off any off the cuff answer she might have given.

She still hadn't managed to work up an answer when Chloe continued. "I mean, to comfort someone in distress when they're right there, that's instinct, empathy, but to go out of your way trying to stop every little butterfly that has a chance of Akumatizing someone is frankly ridiculous."

"Of course it's ridiculous," Marinette snapped back. "This whole thing is ridiculous, Hawkmoth is ridiculous, and the fact that Ladybug and Chat Noir are the only ones who ever seem to do anything about it is completely ridiculous." Chloe smiled, seeming amused by the outburst. "You were Queen Bee, a superhero. You can't tell me it doesn't frustrate you, too."

"One of us works at an office for Akuma prevention," Chloe pointed out. After a few moments, however, her shoulders sagged. "Of course I'm frustrated," she admitted. "How could I not be? The Akumas turned my entire personality from an annoyance into a public safety hazard. Who I was, what I am, hurts people."

"I-" Chloe cut off what Marinette was going to say, abruptly.

"It's fine," she said with a forced smile. "I needed to adapt, and I did. The frustrating part is all the people who choose not to." The car stopped. "We're here."

Marinette grabbed her arm, stopping her from leaving, wanting to say something, anything, comforting. But she couldn't find the words. After a minute, Chloe withdrew, slipping out of her grasp and the car at the same time.

An old Indian man greeted them as they walked into the restaurant, hugging Chloe and shaking Marinette's hand when the counselor made introductions. "Sushil, this is Marinette. Marinette, Sushil."

"Welcome, welcome. Please, take a seat. Any friend of Doctor B is a friend of mine," Sushil enthused. Marinette did as she was asked, rankling slightly at the nickname. Doctor B, once again. Never Chloe. At a certain point it almost seemed like a codename or a secret identity. Was she even a doctor?

Chloe sat across from Marinette at the table and Sushil brought fried bread and ice water, handing the pair menus before disappearing once more.

The restaurant wasn't crowded, but there were other people there, sitting down, eating, talking. They looked like nice peopl-oh who was she kidding? They were so obviously criminals.

In her time as a superhero, Marinette rarely dealt with any non-Akuma threats, but it did happen. Even if it hadn't, it'd be hard to ignore the shaved heads, tattooed arms, and barely visible firearms hanging from waistbands and jacket pockets across the various patrons of local Indian cuisine.

"Uh, Chloe, why are we here?" Marinette whispered, leaning closer as her eyes swept across the room at the unsavory characters.

"Aren't you hungry?" She lazily picked up a menu and began flipping through it. "I am."

"Is this some kind of mob dive? Are you part of the mob?" Marinette picked up her own menu, using it to cover her face in case anyone looked over.

"Le milieu, please. We're not talking about gangsters in some American movie," Chloe chastised, lightly. "And no, organized crime suits me poorly."

"Then what are we doing here?" She stressed.

Chloe's smirk made Marinette wish for the time when she was somewhat predictable. "Do you know the difference between a honeycomb and a spiderweb?"

One of the thugs stood, looking toward the pair, and Marinette watched him nervously. "What? Those are completely different things."

He walked toward them, Chloe barely even glancing in his direction. "Not really," she answered, sounding bored. "Hey, do me a favor and play along for the next few minutes," she whispered under her breath.

Before Marinette could respond, before the man could reach them, before she could even begin to gather what she meant by 'the difference between a honeycomb and a spiderweb,' Chloe moved.

Her hands slammed down on the table and she half rose from her chair. "You're breaking up with me?" She shouted.

What.

Marinette's brain stopped. Thankfully, the thug did, too. Chloe did not. "I can't believe you'd break up with me here. Do you know how many times I've eaten here? Did you not see the owner come up and give me a hug? Now this is just going to be that one place I got dumped. You've ruined this restaurant."

Chloe's expression was so angry, so suddenly, Marinette wasn't sure what to do. At times, it looked downright murderous. "Chloe, I-"

She interrupted before Marinette could get out more than that. "You're what? You're sorry? Do you have any idea how utterly sick I am of that word?" Her voice took on a high-pitched, mocking facsimile of Marinette's. "Chloe, I'm sorry I said you were too stupid to be a doctor. Chloe, I'm sorry I ruined your favorite restaurant. Chloe, I'm sorry I talk about Adrien all the time. Is that what this is about? You're getting back together with Adrien?"

Marinette was floundering, trying to find some aspect of the strange situation to latch onto. Chloe seemed genuinely angry, and the fact that anger was directed at her when she hadn't even done anything, it was... unfair. That was exactly it. Why was everything with Chloe always so unfair?

Just like that, she wasn't with Doctor B in some Indian restaurant tucked away behind a Paris backstreet. She was back in school, railing against the latest of Chloe's cruelties. "I never said you were too stupid to be a doctor," Marinette denied, vehemently. "I was just surprised you decided to go into it as a profession, and before you go off about it, my surprise has nothing to do with your intelligence and everything to do with how for most of the time I've known you, you've never raised a finger to help anyone but yourself." She was shouting now, matching Chloe's anger strike for strike. "And bringing Adrien into this is low, even for you. He and I have never been together, thanks in no small part to your constant aggravating meddling." She was just about to continue her defense when she heard a sniffle, and actually took a closer look at Chloe.

She was crying.

The anger from before had winked out like a candle in the breeze, and once again Marinette was lost, unsure what to do. Her eyes flicked outside, waiting for the inevitable arrival of an Akuma, and it seemed the other patrons were thinking the same thing as they all left one by one.

"Chloe, I..." she was what? She was sorry? No. Everything she said was true, and Chloe knew it. The last person left and Marinette could only sit and stare while Chloe sobbed quietly to herself.

Sushil walked into the room and laid a video camera on the table. "They're gone," he announced with the same chipperness in his voice as when he greeted them.

Chloe stopped crying instantly.

"How did they look?" She asked, excitedly. "Were any of them-" Sushil shook his head, and whatever Chloe was going to say died in her throat. After a moment, she schooled the disappointed look on her face into an even expression and took the camera. "Well, thank you for your assistance, Sushil. I hope you didn't lose too much business."

He waved a hand, dismissing the thought. "Ah, don't worry about it. Even if they did ever pay for their meals, how could I say no to you?"

Marinette's eyes flicked from Sushil to Chloe, disbelief growing. "This whole thing, taking me here, the argument, was just to, what? Film a bunch of gangsters?"

"Le milieu-" Chloe started to say, but Marinette trampled her words.

"I don't care what you call them. I want to know what's going on." Liar. The word pounded in her head, unwilling to leave.

Chloe handed Sushil her menu, staring at Marinette all the while. "Bring out whatever," she told him, and he took the menu before scurrying off. When he had disappeared into the back once more, she spoke again. "When a normal person sees someone about to turn into an Akuma, what do you think their expression is?"

Marinette thought for a moment. "I guess fear? Maybe dread?"

She nodded, accepting the answer. "What about Hawkmoth?"

Her hands clenched into fists. "Smug," she ground out.

Chloe smiled, standing. "At the end of the day, honeycombs and spiderwebs are just nets for trapping food." She walked to the other side of the table and patted Marinette on the shoulder. "Thanks for your help. I'll cover whatever you eat." With that, she walked out the door.

It took Marinette a few seconds before she realized what was happening, but when she did, she jumped to her feet and made to run after her. A jingling sound when she stood made her pause, however. There, on the ground, most likely flung from its position on her lap or some such place, though how Chloe managed to get it there without her noticing was anyone's guess, were the keys to Chloe's car.

But, if she expected Marinette to go back to Honeycomb with it, how did Chloe expect to do the same?

Sushil came out and laid a few dishes on the table, gesturing to them before beginning to leave.

"Wait, please," Marinette asked, and he paused, turning to face her again. "What do you know about Chloe?"

He laughs, the sound almost grating to her ears. "Are you kidding?" He walked toward the back once again, calling out one last thing. "I didn't even know her name was Chloe."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been trying to follow a weekly schedule, posting something every Wednesday. But after I finished this chapter, I thought waiting two days to follow an arbitrary schedule where I don't even post something new for a single story every week comes off as a bit mad, so I'm just putting this up now.
> 
> Also, I'm declaring this Alix's chapter, because I never expected her to be in it this much. Control over my own story? What's that?

Gabriel Agreste was waiting for him when he got home, his usual flat expression laced with an equally usual disappointment. Nathalie hovered to the side, a constant fixture. Adrien wasn't sure if her presence during these little family meetings meant his father considered her part of the family or simply didn't register her as being a person in the room, more a utility. "Do you have any idea the damage you've caused to the Agreste brand?"

Then again, he wondered, sometimes, if that was the way his father saw all people. "I'm sure you'll tell me," Adrien shot back, sardonically.

"Abandoning your assistant, disregarding your responsibilities, then having a public meltdown in front of a reporter, are you trying to ruin me, or do you have no consideration for other people in the slightest?" Adrien winced at the venom in his father's tone.

Still, for better or worse he was his father's son; that meant he had venom of his own. "This might be hard for you to believe, but after my friend was stabbed and taken away to the hospital, your precious brand wasn't what I was most concerned about."

"I wish that I could express surprise your friends find themselves the victim of street violence," Gabriel said with a shake of his head. "This is the very thing your bodyguard is meant to protect you from."

"I don't need protection. I'm perfectly able to take care of myself," Adrien replied, voice heated.

Gabriel turned the screen around to show Adrien a looped video of him running out of the bakery. Hands shaking, eyes widened, face pale, he almost looked more like an alien than himself. "If this is your idea of taking care of yourself, I hope to never see your definition of coming to ruin."

Adrien turned away, trying to think of a response to that.

"Starting today, your assistant and bodyguard are fired. I'll be hiring new ones immediately, ones more capable of keeping you safe." Gabriel began, flipping the screen back around and tapping rapidly on it.

Adrien's stomach twisted. Firings almost always meant Akuma. "No one has to lose their job over this."

"Additionally, I am arranging a flight to the Agreste branch in Hong Kong, where you will stay until you have earned some measure of responsibility." He said, brushing past his son's objection and affixing him with a cold glare. "I don't accept failure, Adrien. You of all people should know that by now." He turned to go, Nathalie following a few steps behind. "You will be leaving in one month. Maybe out of the country, you won't be so distracted by old friends."

Adrien called out a protestation, but the door had already slammed shut. A month, then he'd be gone. The Miraculous on his finger seemed to burn.

Plagg floated slowly out from underneath his jacket. "Adrien, I-"

"You got what you wanted," Adrien cut him off, harshly. "A confrontation."

"I didn't want this," Plagg said, quietly.

Adrien gritted his teeth, biting back all the words he could say. He'd made friends over the years, as children in school, as an adult in modeling or out on the town, but Plagg and Ladybug were the only ones that truly knew him. If he left Paris, he'd have to surrender the Miraculous. Plagg would be gone, his Lady would be gone.

He would be truly alone.

Numbly, he walked back to his room and picked the cellphone off his desk. For days, he'd been stewing, trying to figure out how to answer the numerous missed calls and texts from concerned friends seeing his breakdown online. He always liked to find the exact words he needed before answering, but now it didn't seem to matter.

He clicked the first missed call and held the phone up to his ear, letting it ring.

"Adrien." Marinette's voice. Dependable, kind, if a bit scattered from time to time. "How are you? What happened? You didn't get Akumatized, right? I mean, of course you didn't because I would have seen it. N-not that I have some special reason to see it, I'm not a superhero or anything. It'd just be on the news. That's where I'd see it."

He laughed, a bit stilted, but true. "Never change, Marinette."

Her voice quieted down, struck by something in his tone. "Are you okay?"

He was tempted to say yes. Pass off Marinette's concern with the same practice he always had before. Turn into Chat Noir and leap from building to building hoping for a glimpse of his lady. Maybe he'd even call her and she would comfort him, but...

'I love you, Ladybug.'

'I know, Chat.'

If he told her he'd have to leave in a month, that he'd need to give up the Cat Miraculous for her to have a different partner, would she even...?

He squeezed his eyes shut. Of course she'd care.

"Adrien?" Marinette's voice came to him again.

"I'm not okay," he finally admitted.

There was a pause, and a jingling sound like she picked up keys. "I'm coming to get you."

Adrien leaned against the wall, shaking, though whether from a laugh or a sob, he couldn't tell. He could hear her get into a car and start it up, never hanging up the phone. "Never change."

(:*:)

The duffel bag in the back seat of Chloe's car was missing. Her mind was on Adrien, on helping him with whatever was bothering him, but, using Chloe's keys, getting into her car, it was impossible not to notice the missing bag.

Sushil waved at her from his restaurant. In the end, he gave her a bag of takeout, since she'd rather not stay too long in a place crawling with gangsters.

Le milieu...

Chloe talked about it like she dealt with them a lot, but how could she? In school, she'd rather have been caught dead than interacting with criminals, and now she was a counselor, so why?

'Organized crime suits me poorly.'

Why did she know that, unless she'd tried it first?

Marinette started the car, glancing over at the phone to make sure Adrien hadn't gone anywhere, and started moving down the road.

She was being silly, of course. Chloe was many things, but a criminal was not one of them. Although, wasn't filming people without their permission against the law? Maybe she'd look it up later. In any case, not criminal like she'd hurt anyone.

Marinette bit her lip, considering.

Chloe was stabbed, though. Was that in a fight? Did a job go south and she took the rap?

She shook her head, chasing the thoughts away. She definitely needed to stop watching old movies when she was sewing. She was making up all these convoluted explanations, when really it was probably incredibly simple. Chloe knew a lot about le milieu because she was interested in the history of organized crime, probably, and she knew it wouldn't suit her for the same reason. As for the stab, it was probably an accident in the kitchen with a roommate or some such thing.

Was Chloe living with someone?

Marinette's lips curled into a frown. Chloe's childhood was spent living alone, why would she have a roommate now? Why would she be in the kitchen to have an accident instead of hiring a personal chef? Unless, was she living with someone romantically?

She turned another corner, trying to make it onto a main street, groaning as she shoved the thoughts away. It was amazing how completely none of her business that was. For that matter, none of this was her business. Chloe could be a mob boss with a city-wide harem and it would still be none of her business.

Why did she have to be so mysterious, anyway?

Finally, Marinette managed to find a main road and make her way toward the Agreste mansion. She wasn't far, thankfully, but seeing the intimidating building seemed to chase the thoughts of Chloe away, a dim dread taking their place.

She picked up the phone and spoke into it. "I'm here."

Adrien walked out of the mansion a few moments later, getting into the passenger side of the car. He looked around it for a few moments before turning to her again. "Did you just buy this?"

"What do you mean?" She asked, one eyebrow raised.

He gestured back. "No bumper sticker, no fabric or sewing kit, no leftover food or box of macarons your parents keep sending you." He laughed. "Feels like I just walked into someone else's car."

Marinette scratched the back of her head, a little embarrassed. Adrien had only ridden in her car a couple times. She didn't think he'd noticed all that. "Well, you are right, this is actually Chloe's car."

"Ah," he responded, then stayed quiet for a few moments, like he was chewing on the information. "How has she been, lately? I talked to her recently, but she didn't say much about herself." It felt like he wanted to say something more, but stopped at the last moment.

"She's good?" Marinette shrugged. "It's really hard to tell, honestly. Sometimes it feels like she's confusing me on purpose."

"Try not to take it too hard," Adrien said, comfortingly. "Chloe's always had trouble understanding people."

Marinette huffed a laugh. "It's not her understanding of me, I'm worried about, more the other way around."

"What do you mean?" He sounded genuinely confused.

"What do I mean?" She asked, disbelievingly. "How about, nothing about Chloe makes sense? How about, she spends her whole childhood making everyone miserable and now she's a therapist trying to make everyone happy? Or maybe how she spends time with criminals who don't even know her real name? Or what about how sometimes it's like there's another side to her, buried under these layers of fake smiles and easy lies, that..." 'scares me,' is the phrase Marinette wanted to say, but couldn't quite bring herself to. "I don't know. It's really none of my business, either way."

"I wouldn't say that," Adrien differed. "Besides, you wouldn't be Marinette if you weren't stewing over Chloe," he ribbed, gently. "Some days, it was like she was the only thing on your mind."

Marinette laughed. He was right, of course. Trying to stop Chloe from constantly causing Akuma's at school was like a full time job, and she was usually quite vocal about her frustrations with the blonde bully. "I thought I'd been more subtle about that," she admitted. No matter how much of a terror Chloe could be in school, she was still Adrien's friend. She didn't think he heard her badmouth the girl that much. After a moment, though, she slapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh, but I'm so rude, I brought you here to talk about you, and here I am blabbering about Chloe. Sorry about that."

Adrien laughed, gently. "You don't need to apologize for that. It's nice to know you'll be okay."

Marinette quirked her head. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

He froze. "Sorry, I phrased that wrong. Of course you'll be okay, I'm just..." he sighed, looking away. "I'm going to be leaving in a month."

The words were understandable. He didn't mumble them or anything. Still, something about them just failed to register in her mind. "Hm?"

"My father's sending me to Hong Kong. He thinks I'll be more focused there," Adrien said, dully.

Marinette blinked, her brain slowly processing the impossible words until, "but, you can't. I mean, you're an adult, now, you can decide for yourself what to do. You could move out of your dad's place, get a job. There isn't a lot of room in my apartment, but I usually sleep in the design studio anyway, so you can stay there until you find a... place... of your own?"

Adrien hadn't moved.

"Adrien?" She asked, reaching a hand out to comfort him. "We can fight him on this."

"He's right." Adrien shook his head. "I wish he wasn't. I wish I could stay in Paris forever, but I can't pretend everything is fine when," he shrugged helplessly, "I'm not." He ruffled his hair in frustration. "I can't pretend I don't flinch whenever I hear someone yelling or crying, because I'm so worried an Akuma will come of it, that I don't wonder when I wake up if today is the day Hawkmoth will hurt my friends, ruin my life. I can't pretend I'm so much better than I am, anymore." He started fiddling with the ring on his finger. "Have you ever wondered what it's like to be a superhero, Marinette?"

Marinette began to sweat. Had he figured her out? Had he always known? "What do you mean?"

"Like Ladybug or Chat Noir," he explained, carefully. "To have all those powers, to fight Akuma, to help people. Have you ever wanted to do that?" It looked like he almost wanted to slip the ring off his finger.

"Well," Marinette began, before a knock on the window interrupted. Surprised was not the word, when she turned to see a police officer standing right outside the car with a serious expression on her face: shocked was the word. She rolled the window down, looking a bit intimidated by the officer. If she were Ladybug, she knew she wouldn't be scared in the slightest by a civilian, but for all her clumsiness, Marinette had never gotten a ticket driving, and she'd like to keep that perfect record. "Hello, officer. Is there a problem we can help you with?"

"License and registration, please," she answered in a clipped tone.

They were just sitting in a parked car, what had she done wrong? Marinette fished for her license from her purse and handed it over.

The police officer looked at it, eyes flicking back and forth from it to her, before handing it back. "This is fake."

Marinette gaped, not know what to say, when Adrien interjected. "You're gonna give her a heart attack, Alix."

Suddenly, the officer's serious expression broke out into a mischievous grin. "Oh, come on, Adrien. I was this close to getting her to do a field sobriety test."

"I thought you said you weren't a crooked cop," Adrien stated, deadpan.

The officer's response was to very maturely stick out her tongue and blow a raspberry.

"Alix Kubdel?" Marinette asked, disbelievingly.

"She didn't need prompting to figure out it was me," Alix said, pointedly at Adrien, who just rolled his eyes in response. After a moment, she scratched the back of her head, contritely. "Sorry about the scare, though. It might have been a better idea in my head."

Marinette waved a hand. "That's alright. I'll just let you know how I'm doing when my heart starts beating again, okay?"

"I'm a little surprised you two haven't seen each other," Adrien commented.

Both pairs of eyes turned to him. "Why's that?"

"Don't you both hang out with Chloe?" He asked, and they each looked at the other.

After a moment, Alix chuckled. "You know, that is just like Chloe. I can't tell you the number of times random people will say hi to her on the street, I just don't know where she can fit meeting all them into her schedule."

Marinette wanted to keep Alix there, to press her for answers on Chloe, but Adrien was still sitting in the car right beside her, Adrien who was moving in a month, Adrien who may or may not know she was Ladybug, Adrien who wasn't okay.

"Hey, I'd like to catch up, sometime. I think I have the number you had in school, somewhere, but I don't know if it's changed," Marinette said, gently ending the conversation.

Alix took the hint, easily, waving a hand and stepping back. "Yeah, I gotta run, but I still go to your parents' bakery a bunch, so we'll meet up there and talk, alright?"

They said their goodbyes, and Alix was off again, leaving Adrien and Marinette alone.

"Sorry about that," Marinette said, turning to Adrien. "I've been so busy with my job, I haven't seen most of these people in years. Now, with Chloe, it's like they're everywhere."

Adrien's hands stilled, the fiddling of his ring halting. "You work hard, Marinette. For all the time I've known you, you've always been busy, dedicating yourself to your dream, to helping people." He let his hands fall to his sides and smiled up at her. "I don't want to ever add to that burden."

They talked a bit more after that, but Marinette could tell whatever Adrien was trying to say had been lost in the moment.

"Are you sure going to Hong Kong is what you want?" She asked, as he opened the door to leave.

"It's not what I want," his fingers tightened on the handle. "But it's what I need to do. Maybe once I've learned some 'responsibility' I'll be back." His gaze grew faraway for a moment, looking up at the rooftops of Paris. "Maybe then..." he shook his head. "Thank you, for coming for me, Marinette. You're a really great friend."

"That's what I am," she answered, a little weakly. "A great friend."

The two parted ways, and Marinette groaned in the empty car. "Aren't childhood crushes supposed to go away when you're not, you know, a child?"

Tikki floated out from her purse, crooning, comfortingly, but offering no real answer. With a sigh, Marinette started the car once again and began moving through the streets of Paris toward her studio.

In some far removed part of her mind, Marinette thought of Adrien's question, asking if she'd ever wanted to be a superhero.

Chloe had always wanted to be a superhero, she thought.

Marinette drove on.

(:*:)

For anyone else, hand delivering anonymous messages to the police station would have made preserving the 'anonymity' part of the equation difficult. Chloe Bourgeois was not anyone else.

To put on a disguise and enter a building of people trained to identify and apprehend suspicious behavior was daring, to mail the package anonymously, hoping it didn't run into any problems in transport was optimistic, but to apply and earn a part time job, then walk through the front door as a postwoman once a week delivering letters and packages entirely irrelevant to the main goal simply to avoid suspicion when she handed over the anonymous package was no less than insanity.

"Anything for me today, Miss Bourgeois?" Commandant Legrand asked, his old wooden pipe clenched between his teeth, even when he knew he couldn't light it indoors.

"A few letters, today," Chloe answered with a chipperness that was difficultly earned. As she passed the letters off, though, she grimaced, reaching into her mailbag and puling out a package. "And another one of these."

To do it repeatedly had such staggering audacity not a single person suspected her anymore.

Legrand took the package, a grimace to match her own peeling over his face.

"You've never told me what's in them," Chloe said, uncertainly. "Not to pry, but, is it dangerous?"

He nodded. "It's not a bomb or weapon, but yeah; it's dangerous." It looked like he was going to open it right then, before he noticed Chloe still in the room and flashed her an apologetic smile.

"Oh, I'll get moving on, then. Have a nice rest of your day, Mister Legrand," she said, waving as she left. The Commandant gave a mumbled goodbye, still focused on the package in front of him.

It was funny to Chloe, sometimes, how preoccupied people could be with puzzles. Though, really, she wasn't one to talk.

A smirk forced its way through her features as she delivered the last of the mail and walked out of the police station. "Ridiculous," she mumbled to herself. "People are truly ridiculous."

She bumped into Alix outside, always wearing that ridiculous grin. A civil servant living off a pitiful paycheque. What could possibly make her so happy?

"Hey, Chlo, ran into Marinette, today, driving your car. How can you possibly work two jobs and still have enough time to make friends I don't even know about, when I can't even keep up with my favorite TV shows after one?" Half accusation, half whine, for all the people she saw as a counselor, Alix was still far and away the one that complained to Chloe the most, and she wasn't even a client.

"Maybe I have a secret twin I use to split the responsibilities," Chloe answered, deadpan.

"That..." Alix paused. "Makes too much sense."

Chloe rolled her eyes.

"No, I'm serious," she insisted. "The multiple jobs, the mysterious friends, you ignoring me half the time, are you sure you don't have a twin?"

"I ignore you when you're being annoying." Chloe crossed her arms. The 'like now' was implied. "And I don't have a twin, you just suck at time management."

"Pretty sure you have a twin," she differed, still wearing that obnoxious grin.

Chloe huffed, turning and walking down the street, intent on hailing a cab.

Alix called after her. "Hey, if you have a twin, which one of you am I sponsoring?"

Her middle finger raised behind her was her only response, as Alix's laugh followed her down the street.

"Idiot." Chloe shook her head. If she didn't spend so much time goofing off, she could...

The thought stuttered to a stop.

She could what?

Alix was happy. It was easy to forget, sometimes most people didn't have any goals beyond that. In a sense, Chloe's goals were aligned with that same purpose Alix had already achieved. She could mock her for the bad jokes and annoying grin, but she couldn't offer criticism when Alix had already won.

Chloe gritted her teeth. She didn't have to like it, but if she wasn't used to being jealous of Alix Kubdel by then, what was she doing with her life? Maybe she didn't have as good time management as she thought.

With a wave of her hand, she flagged down a passing taxi, getting into it and giving the driver her next destination. Not home, not yet at least, there was still so much to do.

Chloe sighed as the taxi began driving. She could already tell the day was going to be bad. It didn't happen as often, but she knew it wouldn't ever really go away. Her palms itched, and she almost told the driver to change course, but she stopped herself. Today was a bad day.

Tomorrow would be better.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, right now it looks like we're averaging one conversation between Chloe and Marinette every 10K words. This is entirely reasonable for a romance and I totally know what I'm doing.

Chloe Bourgeois brushed a finger across the letter, feeling the slight raise where the gold formed words on the paper.

You are cordially invited...

She sighed, reluctantly setting it down. Even after all this time, it still felt odd receiving invitations. Accompanying her parents, definitely, a mass invite for her class, from time to time, but a personal invitation because someone wanted her to be there? A younger Chloe might never have believed it.

A younger Chloe might have also had a good time. Dealing with one person at a time, reading their facial expressions and body language, parsing their words, trying to be 'nice', it was all so exhausting. Ramping that up to an entire group of them all with their own stresses and conflicting personalities, it was a wonder to Chloe how any party ended without an Akuma.

When she was just starting out in university, she used to attend every party she was invited to, and try everything she could to make sure no one had a breakdown. That idea died by about the fourth party.

Did she prevent a few Akumas? Probably. Was she risking Akumatizing herself if she missed another night of sleep making sure her roommates didn't lock themselves in the bathroom or cry themselves out after getting rejected? Absolutely. Better to let them screw up while she slept, then maybe she'd come in and fix things in the morning. At least that way, she didn't have to deal with her classmates drunk.

Her features fixed into a glare down at the parchment. And wouldn't that be a fun bonus to an already stressful event: alcohol.

She was allowed a plus-one, so Alix was most likely taking that spot, though Chloe could always distract herself by taking some morally corrupt crime boss or businessman she still had yet to test. But no, throwing in too many random factors was bound to end in disaster.

Play it safe, suffer through. It was just like everything else.

"Doctor B?" Eloise, the new desk girl, popped her head into the office. "There's a man out here asking to see you. What should I tell him?"

Chloe took the letter and placed it carefully in her top desk drawer. "In the future, you should tell whoever it is I am indisposed, then I'll walk out or ring you when I'm ready to see someone else. For now, send him in." She'd learn, not that it made her any less annoying in the short term.

Adrien Agreste walked in.

Chloe leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you'd give the card to your assistant."

He looked away, scratching the back of his head. "She's not my assistant anymore."

"Something happened?" It was phrased like a question, but it was beyond obvious to Chloe that what happened was the same thing that always happened: Gabriel Agreste. If she really wanted to take a morally bankrupt businessman, there was prime real estate in the father of her childhood friend.

Having Adrien's father be arrested for the criminal dealings he was most likely having would make future interactions with Adrien awkward, however, and with the amount of Akumas who specifically wanted to kill Gabriel, the odds of him being Hawkmoth struck Chloe as particularly low.

"My father fired her and my bodyguard, this morning," Adrien said, predictably. "He's putting me on a plane to China in a month."

Now that was less predictable. "Have you talked to anyone else about this?"

"Marinette," of course, "she said I should fight it, but..."

"You're not sure?" Adrien never was when it came to fighting anyone. For a fencer, he was criminally noncombative.

"I think some time away might be good for me, might fix..." he gestured all up and down himself, "this."

"And what, exactly, is," Chloe made the same gesture, "this?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Just me, I guess. I don't want to feel this way anymore, never going forward, always worrying, always scared." His eyes squeezed shut and his hands clenched into fists. "It sucks."

"And you think China is going to be better?" Chloe began playing with a pen again, a bit absent-mindedly. Issues with abandonment, confrontation, too much empathy, Adrien was an open book, really. Open, standard, and boring.

As a person, she was sure he was fine enough. He'd provided nearly endless entertainment as a 'friend' while she pushed and prodded him as far as he could go without breaking, seeing what she would have to say or do before his loyalty ran dry, before he'd have to renounce her or lose his other friends. She'd never gotten him to that point, come to think of it, but she'd abandoned diversions like those a long time ago.

Maybe if she'd pushed him farther before, he wouldn't be coming to her with such boring problems now, but Chloe didn't pick the dysfunction, she just treated it.

All the same, she was only half-listening to his rant. In contrast to Marinette's blaming herself for every Akuma, Adrien seemed fixated on every non-Akuma threat, particularly when Chloe had been stabbed, most recently. She hummed as he continued. Ah, there was the blaming himself for every Akuma he was missing before.

Sheesh, leave some guilt for the rest of us, why don't you two, Chloe thought.

"Do you think China is without danger? That moving there will be a miracle-cure for your anxiety?" There wasn't judgement in her tone, or mockery, but the words made him freeze, nonetheless.

Adrien finally took a seat, his legs buckling, slightly. "I don't think it'll be a miracle-cure. Honestly, I'm not even sure it'll make me happy. But spending some time away, being somewhere I won't have to worry about seeing a friend's face on the news as they're warped into something twisted? Somewhere I won't have to walk on eggshells all the time? It can't hurt, can it?"

"Well it sounds like you've come to terms with the change fairly well," Chloe noted. "Why come to me?"

Adrien went quiet, so totally quiet she started to wonder if he was even still breathing. It was around the six minute mark, she stood, intent on going over to check on him, and when she got close enough, he whispered to her. "When we were kids, you could never keep a secret."

She blinked at the non-sequitur, but sat down beside him, playing the game, nonetheless. "There are a lot of things I did as a child, I wouldn't do now," she responded, evenly. "You can rest assured, any secret you tell me within this office stays with me. You don't have to share anything you don't want to, but I am here to help you, not gossip about you to others."

Adrien nodded, absorbing the information, slowly. "I... don't think I'm ready to say, just yet. Can we talk about something else for a little while?"

She nodded, agreeably. "Anything you want. Did you have something in mind?"

He shrugged. "What about Marinette?"

Chloe felt her teeth clench, the action never showing on her face. "Sure. You said you talked to her recently, right?"

"Yeah, she was supportive, as always, even if I'm still not sure she understands why I'm not fighting the move." Which was fair, given she probably didn't. The girl was frighteningly straightforward. Chloe suspected Dupain-Cheng didn't have a duplicitous bone in her body, which only made the fact her personality was real that much more annoying. Adrien's choice to go along with his father's ruling even when he didn't want to must have baked her little baker brain. "I was a little surprised by her driving your car, until I remembered this is Marinette we were talking about" Adrien continued. "How long have you two been together?"

Chloe's pen cracked in half, ink spilling onto her pant leg. Adrien reached over, grabbing tissues, hoping to dab the stain away, while Chloe steadfastly ignored it. "What makes you say that?" She said, voice unbearably free of inflection.

To his credit, he seemed to notice his mistake, instantly. "Ah, no, when I was talking to Marinette, she said... well, I guess she didn't say, exactly. This is all a misunderstanding. It's just, she was always talking about you at school, and when I saw her driving your car without an explanation, I just thought she'd finally done something about her crush on you."

Chloe stood and deposited the remains of the pen into a wastebin, grabbing a wet cloth to wash the ink from her hands. "She talked about me in school because I was an incorrigible bully to her, as I was to nearly everyone else." 'Including you,' she almost said. "If you thought you saw marks of a crush when she was talking to you about me, it was probably the incredibly obvious one she had on you that you never noticed, you ridiculous child."

She regretted the words even as they came out of her mouth, fearing her acid tongue would send yet another person into an akumatized state. To her surprise, however, Adrien only laughed, good-naturedly. "I really missed your honesty, Chloe," he admitted, smiling up at her. "You're never afraid to speak your mind."

Chloe scoffed, silently. She wished that were true.

"I hope I didn't hurt her too much." When Chloe turned around, Adrien was looking out the window, expression distant. "I really do care about her."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "If it helps, she's probably still pining after you, even now. You could just tell her you like her and see what happens from there."

He looked over, a smile tugging at his lips. "Still pining for me, is that your professional counselor opinion?" He asked.

"More cynicism, than anything," she shot back, examining her fingernails.

He turned back to the window, his smile falling. "I can't tell her," he said after a minute. "I love someone else."

"Who?" Chloe asked, dropping the hand she checked the nails on and walking around the desk to sit down once again.

"Ladybug." Chloe snorted at his response and he chuckled. "Yeah, I know. But this is actually related to that secret I wanted to talk to you about." He closed the window blinds before turning to face her, hand falling to the ring on his hand. "It won't matter in a month, anyway, but, Chloe, can I talk to you about Chat Noir?"

(:*:)

It didn't take Alya's hard-won journalistic prowess to tell Marinette was distracted, it just took eyes. Her expression was unfocused, her posture was off, she'd spent ten minutes trying to decide what to order and another twenty playing with her food without taking a bite. Marinette was a mess, and, in Alya's experience she only got this worked up over one person.

She was about to ask her about him, when Marinette spoke first. "Adrien's moving to China," she said, stabbing her food with more force than necessary. "And I can't stop him."

Alya blew a long exhale, leaning back in her chair. "Wow."

There was a clatter as Marinette nearly threw her fork onto her plate. "Yeah." Alya couldn't remember a time Marinette had seemed so bitter.

"Are you gonna be..." she reached out a hand, but hesitated, "okay?"

"I haven't been Akumatized yet, so I don't think it's gonna happen," she sighed, propping an elbow on the table and resting her cheek in her hand. "Still wish I could talk to Chloe about it, though." She picked her fork up again and started stirring it around the plate.

"Can't you?" Alya asked, slowly withdrawing the hand when it was clear an Akuma wasn't imminent. She still wanted to comfort her friend, but stretching across the table wasn't the way to do it.

"According to the girl working the desk at Honeycomb, she had to take a leave to deal with family troubles " Marinette said, finally managing to at least nibble on some food.

Alya snorted, disbelievingly. "As-if."

This got Marinette's attention. "What do you mean?"

"Girl, do you ever read my articles?" Alya said with a roll of her eyes. "Chloe's parents died years back. She's got no family to have troubles."

Marinette frowned at the news. "I never knew that," she admitted. "I don't know much about her at all." And why did she have to sound so sad when she said that?

"Well, let's fix that, then," Alya announced, standing up.

Marinette blinked, confused. "Fix what?"

Alya stretched her hand out again, waiting for Marinette to take it. This. This was how she'd help her friend. "I'm a journalist, girl. If you want information on someone, I'm the only one to talk to."

Adrien, she could talk to later, there was nothing she could do about that at the moment, but Chloe? There had to be tons of info on the girl, she'd never been exactly shy around a camera.

Marinette took her hand, and they left the restaurant, walking the handful of blocks it takes to get back to Alya's apartment.

It wasn't a big space, but considering how little time Alya actually spent there, she didn't mind it. There was a bed, microwave, and computer, everything else was extra. The same three things were also in her office, which was probably the reason she spent so little time in the apartment, but that's neither here nor there.

She left Marinette taking off her coat and shoes by the door and opened up her laptop, sticking Chloe's name into the search engine, then going to her column and blog sites and searching it there for good measure.

Marinette sat down with a flumping noise on the bed behind Alya, looking over her shoulder at the screen, eyes furrowed.

The top results were predictable enough: interviews on her experience as Queen Bee, photos of her with either of her famous parents, or Adrien. It was when they scrolled down, Alya's initial excitement began to fade.

Interview with Chloe Bourgeois: the most Akumatized person in Paris.

Teenager or Terrorist? How Chloe Bourgeois helps Hawkmoth.

Bourgeois Black Sheep, from Ubiquitous to Unknown.

Whatever happened to Chloe Bourgeois?

Every Akuma reason ranked and in order (now with Chloe Bourgeois section)

A Tragedy in Black and Yellow: Death of the Bourgeois Parents.

Why Chloe Bourgeois needs to go.

Chloe Bourgeois is Hawkmoth (Theory).

Money Can't Buy Happiness: Bourgeois Akumatization Retrospective

Alya kept scrolling, eyes darting past more and more results, much the same. The Honeycomb center had a website, but it wasn't much more than contact information for the office and a brief mission statement. It was also buried in the search results, besides. She was about to give up on the search when Marinette's finger shot past her ear, pointing at the screen, "What's that?"

Alya looked at the link she'd pointed to, somewhere far down the line and clicked into it, seeing some kind of academic paper load onto the screen. "The Butterfly's Affect: Exploring the way Hawkmoth thinks," Alya read the title aloud.

Marinette pointed again, to the bottom of the page. "By Chloe Bourgeois. I was so wrapped up in everything else, I never thought to look."

Alya raised an eyebrow. "Look for what?"

"Chloe's a doctor," Marinette explained, gesturing to the screen, "this is her thesis."

Alya's nose wrinkled as she turned back to the screen. "Pretty creepy topic," she muttered. "Why do you think she chose it?"

"I'm not sure..." Marinette hummed, placing her hand on her chin. "Do you think she knows something about Hawkmoth nobody else does?"

"Why keep it to herself?" Alya asked with a shrug. "Have you seen the number of interviews she's done? If she knew anything, it's already out there."

"Whatever happened to Chloe Bourgeois?" Marinette recited. At her friend's confused expression, she elaborated. "That was one of the search results, and that other one, obsequious to obscurity, or something like that. All the dates on those interviews were old. At some point she must have just stopped doing them altogether."

Alya went back to the search and began clicking through a few of the more recent articles, skimming through. "Chloe Bourgeois could not be reached for comment," she said, again and again, as it showed up in anything past a certain point.

"She won't do any interviews anymore," Marinette asserted. "She must have found something out about Hawkmoth, he threatened her, and now she can't do any interviews or he'll do something awful to her."

Alya waved a hand in front of her face, pulling Marinette from the tizzy she'd been working herself into. "Let's try to cool it on the assumptions, here. Most of these have totally reasonable explanations why she wouldn't want to go on a talk show for them. This one happened right after her mom died, this one after her dad was buried, I don't know about you, but I wouldn't be desperate to show a camera my ugly cry in those scenarios. For the rest of them, maybe she was busy, or just got tired of interviews, altogether. I mean, she's done so many, it probably got boring, right?"

Marinette bit her lip. "Her mom died first?"

"Yep." Alya pulled up one of the sites talking about it and skimmed through again. "Looks like complications from a surgery. Mayor Bourgeois got Akumatized and tried to kill the doctors."

Marinette groaned, clutching her head and falling back onto the bed. "When we were kids, Chloe idolized her mother. I think most of the really bad stuff she did was trying to mimic her, so why did her dad get Akumatized after her death and not Chloe?"

Alya shrugged. "Honestly, with the amount of times Hawkmoth Akumatized Chloe without it getting him anywhere, maybe he just gave up on her." She looked a little further, pointing at a line on the screen. "See? She didn't get Akumatized when the mayor died, either."

"It's hard imagining Hawkmoth just giving up on someone," Marinette differed. "He seems perfectly content keeping the Akumas coming forever until he gets what he wants."

"Maybe she didn't idolize her mom as much as you thought," she offered.

"Maybe..." Marinette said, clearly uncertain. "What have you written about her?"

Alya navigated over to her current writing, brushing through a handful of things that didn't amount to much more than passing mentions. The most she had there was another interview on Queen Bee when she was just starting out, and Alya had to admit with a grimace that her writing had greatly improved since then, the usefulness of the article approaching zero as she scrolled through the questions she'd asked.

What was transforming like?

How does it feel to risk your life against an Akuma?

Do you have anything to say to your fans out there?

She might as well have copied a Ladybug question sheet down word for word. Alya grimaced. "So sloppy."

"Stop." Marinette pointed again, this time at a question Alya couldn't have asked Ladybug.

How has your identity being public affected your life?

Alya read aloud Chloe's, that is, Queen Bee's response. "It's fabulous having my fans walk up to me and ask for autographs and the like. I used to be the tiniest bit worried Hawkmoth would target me since he probably knows who I am, too, but now I say let the smarmy rich chiante try. Even if, by some ridiculous miracle he manages to capture me, I know Ladybug will come to my rescue." Alya rolled her eyes, Chloe's overdramatics replaying in her memory.

"How did she know..." Marinette chewed a fingernail, eyebrows furrowed together so hard it looked like her face was in a knot.

"Know what?" Alya asked.

Marinette pointed at the screen again and Alya's eyes followed it to one line of Chloe's answer in particular. "How did she know Hawkmoth was rich?"

(:*:)

Alix Kubdel zipped her jacket up all the way, shivering against the cooling air. Winter was close, too close, for her tastes, but she couldn't change the weather.

A sigh escaped her as the old iron gate creaked open and she gave a wave to the caretaker.

Just as she couldn't turn back the clock.

She walked with purpose, glancing down from time to time to admire a particularly nice bouquet or odd knick knack of some kind, but never slowing her step. It was always a bit rude, she thought, lingering on someone she didn't even know, so for the most part her eyes were fixed ahead.

When they finally came into view, she waved to the two in front of her, smiling wanly. "Hey, guys, I didn't..." she spread her hands, helplessly, "I didn't bring you anything; hope you don't mind. I just got off work, wanted to say hi, you know. Legrand misses you, both of you, really. He'll never admit it, but it's kinda obvious."

She laughed, sitting fully on the ground so she was more at level with them. "Chloe's friends with Marinette now, apparently, though when that happened, I have no idea." Alix chuckled. "I wonder if she still calls her 'Dupain-Cheng,' even when they're friends, could you believe that? Honestly, this is Chloe we're talking about, here, so I wouldn't put it past her, but still."

Alix grew silent, looking up at the sky, feeling the chilly breeze on her skin. "I'm worried about her," she admitted, finally.

"She's come a long way, I know you'd both be proud of her, but I don't know what'll happen if this thing with Hawkmoth keeps up." Her eyes burned, with the cold, with fatigue, but not with tears. Not anymore. "Chloe's tough. I know she'll take whatever happens and keep swinging, but it's been so long since I've seen her actually... happy."

The frown on her own face deepened. "Don't get me wrong, dealing with her when she got her kicks torturing us in class sucked, but there's gotta be some way she can be happy too, right? I know you thought so."

Silence greeted her once again.

It took another minute for her to speak again. "Maybe Marinette will be good for her," she said, slowly, like she was working through it, herself. "I never feel like I know what to do when it comes to friendships, but Marinette's always been really good at stuff like that."

"I wish you could give me some advice," she admitted. "I asked my brother, but he's never been all that great at this, either."

An insistent wind blew past, cutting through her coat and pants directly to the bone, forcing her to shiver. "Guess that's all I got for today. Next time I'll bring you some macarons, alright? I promise."

She gave a last smile and turned away, the twin tombstones growing farther with each step. With another wave to the graveyard caretaker, the creaky iron gate slammed shut behind her.


	6. Chapter 6

Ladybug and Chat Noir never agreed on which the worst Akumas were. To him, they were always the mind controlling ones, and some particularly grueling fights neither of them liked to dwell on. For her, it was always the shapeshifters, tricksters, liars. Long after Lila had moved away and they'd faced a legion more Akuma, Marinette still grimaced whenever she thought of Volpina.

The fact she'd practically Akumatized Lila, herself, only made the feeling worse.

Two hundred and seventy-seven, the number flashed in her mind as she dodged under a flailing wooden fist from the latest Akuma, one that transformed people into puppets under its control, so definitely not a good time for Chat.

The number seemed too big. "Lucky Charm," with a flash of red and black, a spool of sewing thread dropped in her hand.

Logically, she knew they'd faced far more Akuma than that, that it represented only a fraction of the ones they'd beaten, but still. That was nearly one Akuma for every day in a year, and no matter how hard she tried, Marinette couldn't remember even close to that many.

The puppet's strings tangled with her and Chat's combined sewing thread attack. Chat jumped forward to tear the infected playbill in half.

"No more evildoing for you, little Akuma." She swung her yoyo, catching it the same way she caught all the others, de-evilizing them one by one. There was a list online, with all of their names, but Marinette could only picture a handful.

"Bye bye little butterfly." How could Chloe have caused two hundred and seventy-seven Akumatizations?

"Lucky Charm." Did she feel the same way, when she thought about those, that Marinette did with Volpina? Every single one? Somehow, Marinette couldn't believe that.

But what was the alternative? That she felt nothing? That she felt... joy? She liked all that pain she'd caused so many people?

"Ladybug." Chat Noir's hand on her shoulder broke her from her ruminations, the sound of his ring and her earrings beeping cementing her in the moment. "We should go."

They swung away in opposite directions, Ladybug landing somewhere a little too close to her parent's bakery, but with a timer too short to care. "Tikki, spots off." The transformation came undone, her Kwami floating up beside her.

Another day, another Akuma. It was starting to feel like she could fight them in her sleep. A yawn broke through as she started heading for the fire escape to the ground floor. In her sleep, wouldn't that be nice.

"Are you okay, Marinette?" Tikki asked, giving a yawn, herself. "It's not good for you to stay up so late on the computer."

"Lesson learned," she mumbled, stepping onto the creaking metal. "Late night reading is a no-go." Especially when she still felt no closer to answering any of her questions. If anything, poring through the myriad interviews and articles on Chloe only left her with more questions. Maybe if she could actually track her down, she could ask a few, but Chloe seemed intent on avoiding her.

Marinette stumbled and almost fell on the last stair as she gripped the railing tightly. "Okay, definitely too tired for this." She walked out of the alleyway and looked down the street at all the businesses on either side. "How do you feel about coffee and cookies, Tikki?"

"Do I get the cookies?" She asked, wide-eyed.

Ladybug smirked down at the eager Kwami. "You get half the cookies," she allowed.

Tikki cheered, slipping back into the purse as Marinette began walking down the street proper.

"Did I hear someone say cookies?" A new voice asked, startling Marinette to the point she almost slipped and fell again. "Woah, there. Didn't mean to scare you that bad." Marinette turned to see Alix, outside of her police uniform this time, wearing a plain grey hoodie and jeans. After a moment, Alix turned left and right, quizzically. "Were you talking to someone?"

Unconsciously, Marinette brought her purse a little closer to her. "Just myself."

She shrugged. "Whatever gets your thoughts in order, I guess. You heading to your parents' bakery? I was just about to pick something up."

Marinette nodded, following Alix's lead down the street. She was sure her parents would fuss over how tired she looked, but they still had coffee and the best cookies in Paris, so she could live with a bit of fussing. Especially with how ragged she seemed to be running herself, lately. She was glad the Winter Line hadn't hit any major snags yet, or she'd probably already have collapsed in her studio.

"So, I hear you're working for Gabriel Agreste now, is he as much of a pill as he is on TV?" Alix wondered aloud, almost making Marinette trip again.

"I don't know if he's a pill," she hedged, smiling in a way that definitely seemed like more of a grimace. "He's just very driven and strives for perfection. It's really not that bad once you get started, and my work's improved by loads since then."

"I don't know. Seems like you've always been driven and striving for perfection, too, but I also don't see compilations of you firing people, online," Alix pointed out.

Marinette had to acknowledge the point, but she wasn't quite ready to start badmouthing her employer yet. "How about you? You're a cop now, how did that happen?"

Alix scratched the back of her head, looking away. "That's kind of a long story," she admitted, slowly, "short version, putzed around for a few years after school, got kicked in the teeth by life a bit, cleaned up and managed to knuckle down through police academy." She shrugged. "One or two things about the job I could whinge or whine about, but I've never regretted it. Feels good to help people, you know?"

A smile snuck its way across Marinette's face. "Yeah. Yeah, it does."

They walked into the Dupain-Cheng bakery, Marinette's father greeting Alix, then spying Marinette and calling out for her mom, until a few moments later the family was in a group hug.

Alix took a seat, lazily glancing up at the chalkboard menu to avoid staring at them, pleased, for too long.

The hug broke up soon enough, and Marinette's father went to take Alix's order as her mother tutted over the designer's less-than crisp appearance.

Alix had to agree, Marinette looked downright rough. She didn't just look tired, but beat down in a way Alix had only ever seen from time to time on-duty, well, that or Chloe, but she was an exception in a number of ways. Should she ask about it? But they were just meeting up again, better to wait and see if it comes up naturally, she decided.

Marinette finally managed to worm her way free from her mom, sitting down across from Alix, looking a bit embarassed. "Sorry about that. They can be a little much, sometimes."

Alix, for her part, looked amused. "They're good people, talk about you all the time. I'm a little surprised I don't see you in here more, honestly."

"Just busy," Marinette sighed. "Between all my work for Monsieur Agreste and..." she hesitated, dropping whatever she was going to say. "I've been swamped for what seems like forever."

"Well take some time off," Alix suggested. "Don't tell me that fancy designer job doesn't have vacation days."

"That's the thing," she groaned, "I have vacation days, but I'm working on the Winter line and if I take any time off before that's finished, I'll never be able to look Monsieur Agreste in the eye again."

"There's that driven perfectionist I know," Alix said teasingly as Marinette's dad dropped off a plate of cookies and coffee for Marinette and a chocolate eclair with milk for Alix. She eyed Marinette's selection, curiously. "Not planning on going to sleep yet, huh?"

She smiled, sheepishly. "I'm still a ways away from my apartment."

Alix chuckled. "Why don't you put the coffee down and crash at my place tonight? Doesn't look like you should be awake any longer than absolutely necessary, and I live really close."

"I look that bad, huh?" She asked, good-humoredly.

This was one of those times, Alix thought, that someone really good at being friends would have an answer. "Uh..." she completely blanked.

Marinette laughed, tiring quickly, but still smiling afterward. "Yeah, okay, point taken. If you really don't mind, I'd love a place to crash tonight." She knew her parents would have been happy to make up her bed and have her stay there, but since her former bedroom was currently an excess storage space, she really didn't want to put them to the trouble of digging out a path to her bed and then making it, especially since they'd have to wake up so early the next morning to have everything freshly baked for the breakfast rush.

Alix beamed as Marinette set the coffee to the side, tucking the cookies in her purse, she assumed for later. After she finished off her eclair and milk, both girls stood, saying their goodbyes to the bakery owners before walking out the door.

True to her word, Alix's place was fairly close by. They had to pass through a convenience store taking up the first floor and go up some stairs, but besides being a little messy, it was a nice apartment.

Alix hurriedly grabbed bits of trash and laundry off the floor and various furniture, tucking it away a little embarassedly. "Sorry, didn't plan for guests today."

"Alix, even if I wasn't way too tired to care," Marinette yawned for emphasis, "my place looks exactly the same, so it's fine."

Alix laughed, grabbing a clean set of sheets and a blanket that thankfully weren't buried under assorted detritus. "That's gotta drive Chloe nuts."

"Wouldn't know; she's never been to my place," Marinette answered sleepily, watching Alix spread the sheets over the couch, longingly. "Wouldn't have guessed she's a cleanfreak."

"Have you seen her apartment?" Alix scoffed. "It's like she's waged a personal war on clutter."

"Haven't seen her apartment, either," Marinette's eyes began to glaze over.

Alix looked over, her expression confused. "I thought Adrien said you two were friends."

"Misunderstanding," she mumbled. "Chloe hates me."

"Well that doesn't make any sense." Alix's eyebrows furrowed. "Did something happen?"

"Make sense..." Marinette hummed a quiet laugh. "Chloe never makes sense." Her eyes slid fully closed and it seemed for a moment like she was going to start sleeping right then and there.

Alix sighed, standing up and guiding the nearly unconscious Marinette onto the couch, drawing the blankets up over her.

When she moved to head for her own bed, a tiny whimper stopped her. Alix turned to see Marinette's sleeping face twisted into a pained expression. "Why does she hate me?"

Alix patted her arm, drawing reassuring circles in the pale, clear, skin. She wished she could say, 'she doesn't hate you.' But, really...

Who knew what went on in Chloe's head?

(:*:)

Chat Noir leaped through the Paris streets, bouncing from rooftop to rooftop after the latest defeated Akuma. It was yet another mind control one, so obviously not a great time, but they dispatched it reasonably easily. The only shame was that it was so late at night by that point.

Still, Chloe was there on top of the roof when he finally came to a stop and detransformed. "You still haven't told her, have you?" She asked, the disappointment in her tone making him wince.

Adrien took a bit of camembert out of a plastic container in his pocket and handed it to an eager Plagg. "There hasn't been a good time. Usually, we only see each other when we're fighting Akuma, and that doesn't leave a lot of room for long discussions."

"Adrien," she snapped, forcefully. "This is important. You can't put off telling her you're leaving until you're already on the plane."

"I know, and of course she should know," he agreed, frustration leaking into his voice. "But once I tell her, everything will be weird. I already have a big doomsday clock counting down until I have to leave, I don't want her to have one, too. Can't it just wait one more week?"

Chloe's lips pursed as she put her hands on her hips, glaring at him warningly. "And Chat Noir?"

"What about Chat Noir?" He asked.

"You can't take the Miraculous with you, and that means someone else will have to wear it. Trying to find a suitable wielder might take months on its own, and don't you think that's a discussion you and Ladybug should have together? Every day you keep her in the dark is another day without Chat Noir after you leave."

"You don't know that," Adrien differed. "She never had a problem picking who to give any of the other Miraculouses, why should mine be any different?"

"Maybe because it's yours?" Chloe shot back, unimpressed with his reasoning. "The others were one-off, spur of the moment decisions, this is a full time partner, specifically replacing one she's spent ages fighting and building trust with. I know I have a doctorate in the subject, so this might not be fair, but could you consider how she feels for a second and a half? At best, replacing you is a monstrous inconvenience. At worst, she likes you back and you're gonna break her heart."

Adrien groaned, slumping against the rooftop wall. "That's what I'm afraid of: if she likes me back, telling her I'm gonna leave is going to ruin the time I have left with her. I'll break her heart."

"And if she doesn't like you back?" Chloe asked, a single eyebrow raised.

"It'll still be ruined," he sighed. "She'll break my heart."

"Either way," Chloe shook her head, decisively. "Making sure the ring gets passed on to the right person is more important than anyone's feelings. You'll have to suck it up and tell her; that's just the price of being a superhero."

Adrien chuckled. "You know, Ladybug said almost the exact same thing the other day. I guess you two are more focused than..." he paused, bringing a hand slowly to his chin in thought, "me..."

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Plagg?" He turned to the black creature, the cheese already long devoured. "How do you feel about going out again, tonight?"

Plagg yawned, idly licking a paw. "I could take it or leave it."

"That's the best we're gonna get," Adrien said, slipping the ring off his finger and holding it out to her. "Want to try it on?"

Chloe's eyes narrowed, dangerously. She didn't reach for the ring. "Ladybug would never choose me to be Chat Noir."

Adrien's smile fell, but he kept holding the ring up to her. "Don't you think you're being a bit hard on yourself? You spend so much time and energy helping people; I think Ladybug would appreciate that more than anyone." When she still made no move to take it, he sighed. "Would it be so bad if I chose you?"

"Without even talking to Ladybug about it?" She asked.

"Ladybug wanted us to keep our identities secret, even to each other. When it was inconvenient, when we were in danger, she still insisted on that. If she chose the next Chat Noir with me, she'd know who you are. Do you really think that's what she'd want?" He stretched his hand out further, but she still didn't reach for it. As the minutes stretched on while she remained silent, his hand finally fell, closing around the ring. "Fine. I'll talk to Ladybug about it, we'll decide how to pick the next wielder, together. But you should know, if it's up to me, I'm gonna choose you."

"I really hope Ladybug has more sense than to put you in charge of something like that," Chloe replied, deadpan.

"I think I can talk her around to it," he answered flippantly. "But you might as well get some practice in while you have the expert here to train you." He held up the ring again, to her annoyance. "Look, nothing's permanent without Ladybug's say-so, we both agree on that. What's the harm in trying it out, though? Even if it ends up going to someone else," he mumbled something about finding that unlikely, "the most we've done is wasted some time and had some fun."

Plagg yawned again, looking almost as annoyed as Chloe. "Whatever you do, could you do it quickly? This whole conversation is boring."

"This is ridiculous," Chloe mumbled, snatching the ring roughly out of Adrien's hand and putting it on. "Plagg, claws out."

Adrien stared, dumbfounded as she transformed in front of him. "Wow," he said eventually. "That's... different."

(:*:)

Out of ways for Alya Cesaire to wake, a phone call was really the most common. Normally it was from her editor, asking for clarification on a point, or a source, or wondering where that article is she promised to send in yesterday and if he finds out she spent all night out chasing Akuma again he's gonna lock her in the office so maybe she can get some typing done and go to sleep at a reasonable hour.

It's possible she had developed a reputation.

Sometimes the call was more personal, like from her sisters or parents and for those she'd normally let their words wash over her as she staggered to the coffee maker to brew some manner of consciousness.

The calls from Marinette and her other friends didn't come as often as they once did, but rain or shine, she was always ready to hear their problems and offer soothing words or advice, or just straight up gossip with.

But there was no way to get her out of bed faster than a call for a story.

Nighttime Akumas were rare. Akumas not dealt with immediately, even rarer. An Akuma that didn't speak, didn't cause chaos, and disappeared almost as quickly as it showed up with neither hide nor hair of Ladybug or Chat Noir, now that was definitely worth a look.

"You said it went through here?" Alya climbed over a bit of broken fence, taking pictures from time to time, searching for information on the identity of the latest Akuma.

Rosalind Thorne, a kind old lady Alya had spoken to before, slowly stepped after her. "Oh, yes, quiet as can be. I'd never even have noticed if it wasn't for Tootles."

Alya raised an eyebrow, gesturing at the destroyed fence. "Quiet?"

Rosalind's eyes steadily tracked the gesture before realization hit. "What? Goodness, no, I only wish an Akuma caused this. A bunch of kids causing a ruckus tore through here about a week ago. Haven't gotten anyone around to fix it yet, is all. You know, it's these irresponsible parents that let their kids get up to all this nonsense. I'd have half a mind to knock some sense into them to get a handle on their kids, if the police ever did their jobs worth a darn."

Alya didn't tune her out, a journalist should always keep an ear open for anything important, but she did filter a bit heavily. After Miss Thorne had entered her fourth or fifth tangent, Alya decided to move her back on course. "You mentioned a Tootles?"

"That's my cat, a little black tabby. Say hello, Tootles." She reached for an impressively sized nearby housecat who dashed away almost instantly. "Oh, there he goes. Can't tie cats down anywhere, you know."

"Your cat reacted to the Akuma in some way?" Alya looked down where the ground was particularly soft, at the lightest of imprints featured there. A bootprint? She took a picture, either way.

"Made an awful racket, hissing and scratching. If there wasn't a window between the two of them, I'm sure Tootles would have attacked it, himself." Rosalind seemed proud of this fact despite the almost certain outcome of a tabby fighting an Akuma.

"So you saw the Akuma?" Alya turned her attention back to the old woman.

"I did," she confirmed, "but there's not much I can tell you. Couldn't make out any part of it in the dark, 'cept two cold, blue, feline eyes."

"Feline eyes?" Alya asked, crossing her arms. "You're sure this wasn't just another cat, you saw?"

"I may be old, but I know how big a housecat is," she snapped, "and there isn't a snowball's chance in hell a panther can jump from the top of my fence to the roof next door without making a single sound."

Alya took a look at the distance between the fence and roof. Forget a panther, no one should have been able to make that jump. Which meant it was almost certainly an Akuma.

"Can you remember anything else that happened? Anything it did or said?" Alya asked, but she already knew the answer.

"Nope. Nothing at all." She'd already talked to four others who had seen it, and apparently the height of the Akuma's activity had been to stare at Miss Thorne's cat when the tabby hissed at it.

She honestly wasn't sure if this was the most interesting Akuma or the most boring. Either way, it was definitely news.

It wasn't that most Akuma weren't intelligent, some of their tactics were good enough to fool Ladybug and Chat Noir, after all. It was more that a majority of Akuma weren't exceptionally subtle. Even the trickier ones were usually discovered pretty quickly.

But there was always the chance this one was discovered and dealt with before it had the chance to do anything. That's where the Ladyblog came in.

While the website from her school days was mostly defunct by that point, it had an important feature she'd added that even in the present, she still used from time to time. That being, since Ladybug didn't have any kind of public telephone, Alya could still send her messages on the public forum asking to meet, that Ladybug would get alerted to, like shining a distress signal into the sky. Sometimes she'd come immediately, sometimes it'd take longer, but one way or another, Ladybug would always be there.

She tapped out a quick message asking if Ladybug knew anything about a strange Akuma the night before, and posted it, saying goodbye to Miss Thorne as she checked through her notes.

She'd already interviewed the best targets. The ones that were left had all only seen it from a distance or were generally a retread of information she already had. Her editor did forward an amateur photograph someone managed to snag, though it was hopelessly blurry. Really, the most it did was confirm, yes, the Akuma was not a panther.

It was a few hours later, as Alya sat in a nearby cafe, waiting for the meal bridging her missed breakfast and most likely to be skipped lunch, the red and black form of Ladybug flipped onto the street outside, making her way in and sitting across from the journalist.

"Alya," she greeted, looking friendly but perturbed, "it's been a while."

"Good to see you again, Ladybug." Alya quickly tapped at her phone, pulling up the blurred photo and passing it over. "Know anything about this?"

She squinted down at it for a few moments before passing it back. "Is this supposed to be that Akuma you mentioned?"

"Supposed to be," she confirmed. "Never heard of an Akuma that acts like this, though. You're saying you and Chat Noir didn't fight it during the night?"

"We were fighting Marionette until late. Normally, Hawkmoth needs some time between Akumatizations to recharge, though. Are you sure this is an Akuma and not one of those superhero copycats?" The waiter brought Alya's food and Ladybug waved him off when he asked if she wanted to order anything.

"Funny choice of words," Alya commented, biting into a thick sandwich and chewing for a few moments before swallowing. "The only feature I've been able to get about it so far is that it has a nice big pair of bright blue cat eyes."

"Contacts?" Ladybug suggested.

Alya shook her head. "Akuma. I don't care if you're an olympic longjumper, some of the things people saw just flat out can't be done without a magical boost."

"Magical boost, huh?" Ladybug hummed, eyes narrowing, suspiciously. "You said this Akuma had cat eyes?"

"Yeah. Why? Do you know something?" Her sandwich had been momentarily forgotten as a notepad and pencil had somehow found their way into her hands.

"A hunch," she hedged, taking the yoyo from her belt and flipping it open. "Do you mind if I make a call?"

Alya shook her head and gestured in a 'go right ahead,' fashion. A few seconds later, the yoyo began to ring.

It took a few rings, but Alya could see the face of Chat Noir appear in the screen. "My Lady? Everything alright?"

"Chat, after the fight with Marionette, did anything odd happen to you?" Ladybug asked, one hand drumming softly on the countertop.

He thought for a few moments before shaking his head. "Not that I noticed. Was there something your Lucky Charm missed?"

"I'm trying to figure that out. You didn't notice your Kwami disappearing at any point, did you?" She pressed, the drumming getting faster.

"Did your Kwami disappear?" He asked, alarmed.

"No, just, answer the question, please?"

"Plagg never disappeared," he answered, adding, "and with how loud he is most of the time, I'd definitely notice, if he did. It could have happened sometime while I was asleep, but I turned in late and he never said anything in the morning."

Ladybug sighed, and the drumming stopped. "Okay," she said to a very puzzled looking Chat. "Thanks, I'll call you later and fill you in."

He gave an exaggerated bow. "I look forward to hearing from you, my lady."

The yoyo flipped closed.

"What was that about?" Alya asked, finally noticing her meal once again and finishing her sandwich.

"Apparently, a dead end." She grumbled. "Chat's been acting weird lately..." she trailed off and shook her head a moment later. "It doesn't matter. Is there anything else about this Akuma you can tell me?"

(:*:)

Ladybug's face disappeared from the screen and Chat Noir retracted his staff, slumping backward onto the hotel room bed. "Claws in." His transformation faded.

"She was talking about me, you know," Chloe commented, staring out the window with an odd sort of longing.

"What do you mean?" Adrien sat up on the bed, looking over.

"When she was asking about your Kwami." She turned to face him, her expression an iron wall. "She knows I used your Miraculous."

He scoffed, lightly. "She asked if Plagg went missing, not if I gave my ring to anyone, and she certainly didn't mention anything about you."

"Someone must have seen me last night, maybe even gotten a picture, and when Ladybug saw it, she put two and two together and knew it was someone else using the Cat Miraculous." Chloe had begun pacing back and forth by this point, speech growing just slightly more frantic.

"Who's out taking pictures of rooftops at one in the morning?" Adrien wondered aloud, as Chloe took out her phone and began tapping at it. "Besides, I don't know if I saw a picture of you transformed, if my first thought would be 'Chat Noir,' it'd probably be more like, 'Akuma.'"

"You're not the only one," she revealed, passing her phone to him so he could read the Ladyblog message.

He shrugged, handing the phone back to her. "So? They think you're an Akuma, so what? They still don't know it's you, and I'll explain everything to Ladybug when I tell her about my moving away."

Chloe took the phone, frowning deeply. "So you say."

Adrien rolled his eyes, slipping the ring off his finger once again. "I might be offended by the lack of trust if I thought there was literally anyone you actually trusted. Up for some more practice?"

She raised on eyebrow, imperiously. "I trust Ladybug's judgement."

He held up the ring. "Liar."

She took it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, next chapter Chloe's gonna talk to Marinette, I promise.
> 
> You know, one way or another...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Looks at Chloe Bourgeois Redemption tag*  
> *Looks at chapter*  
> *Sweats*  
> This is still fine.

It took four seconds every time. Chloe timed it, of course. No matter what size a person was, no matter the body part, or where it hit them, always four seconds. The dependability of it all was too perfect, it tickled some fancy in the back of her mind, and even when she was sure it was four seconds every time, she couldn't help but count.

It took four seconds to kill a person with Cataclysm.

No body, no blood, no evidence at all, if she did it without witnesses, it was like they were never there at all. The five minute time limit to escape after that was annoying, but enhanced strength, reflexes, jumping, and climbing ability made up for it mostly.

Adrien didn't know what she did on the 'practice patrols' he'd begun sending her out on, letting her use the ring more and more, but he had to suspect something. He couldn't have used Cataclysm for years and never seen a weapon. He couldn't pick up a newspaper or turn on the news for the string of recent disappearances and never thought, what if? Still, he kept giving the ring to her, insisting she practice just a little more.

Plagg never mentioned it. She was fairly sure he didn't know what went on when she was transformed, which made their conversations a bit forced at times. Apparently, Adrien had noticed this, though, so he had ordered some one on one bonding between the two, no transforming allowed.

It was around this time she realized she truly hadn't the slightest idea what to think of Plagg. With Pollen, this wasn't an issue simply by virtue of Pollen only being in her possession for a minute at most before she needed to transform. Plagg, if Adrien was to be believed, would be a constant companion, a friend.

With the way Plagg seemed to glare at her every time he thought she wasn't looking, it seemed he thought about the same thing she did on the subject.

"So what do Kwami's... do, exactly?" She asked, eventually. She liked the silence of her apartment, so rarely felt the need to break it, but Adrien had sent them there specifically to 'bond' and they were on a time crunch.

"Eh," Plagg shrugged. "Float around, eat cheese, make sarcastic comments. That's mostly what I do, anyway. What do you do?"

Chloe considered for a moment. How did she become friends with people, again? Alix's situation was irreplicable, Adrien's was due to a childhood of loneliness, then there was bribery... no, none of those would work.

Then again, she didn't really need to become 'friends' with the Kwami, so much as make it accept her somewhat. Working that out would make things run much smoother with Adrien, and would probably prevent him from trying to force them together like this again. Introduce a commonality, perhaps? But what would she have in common with a spirit?

"Well, I work at Honeycomb, I administrate my mother's magazine and my father's hotels, I do postal work from time to time." Her eyebrows furrowed. Those were all just her jobs. "I shop, and watch TV," she continued.

"Adrien doesn't like TV," Plagg sighed. "I never got to see enough of it." There was a pause. "What do you watch?"

It was a stilted conversation, certainly, but it was also a start. "I like cooking shows," she said after a moment. Had she ever told anyone that?

"Do you cook?" Plagg asked.

She shook her head. "I've tried a few times over the years, but I've never really been good at... making things."

The cat Kwami chuckled. "That makes two of us."

Chloe smiled, lopsidedly. "I think watching them create like that, cooking no matter what constraints or pressures they may be under, it reminds me of her."

Plagg knew exactly who she was talking about. "Ladybug sure is something, isn't she?"

"Yes," Chloe agreed. "She sure is."

"Well what are we waiting for?" Plagg flew to her television screen, pressing up against it. "Those cooking shows aren't gonna watch themselves."

Chloe gave an inward sigh of relief as she picked up the remote and turned the TV on. Commonality found.

It was during the dessert portion of their latest show around three hours later, Adrien found them, buried in camembert and Indian takeout, respectively.

"Man, Francois should throw in the towel," Plagg commented, shoveling a large cheese wheel into his mouth.

Chloe shrugged. "He's got good presentation."

"He's got okay presentation," Plagg corrected, "and he can't whip cream, it's embarrassing."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "It looks fine."

"It's still liquid," he protested. "He whisked it for two seconds then had to run to the ice cream maker and never got back to it. I can't believe he looked at a bowl of milk and just decided, 'yeah, that's fine to put on my crepes.' Isn't this guy supposed to be a professional?"

Chloe had to admit, it was possible Francois had attempted to do a few too many things at once in the time limit they had. The whipped cream had definitely suffered. "It doesn't matter anyway; Jeanne burned the compote. There's no recovering from that."

Plagg waved a paw. "Nah, she caramelized the outside. No way anyone can tell a little burning through caramel."

Chloe scoffed. "You realize the people judging this are trained chefs, right? I'm pretty sure they can tell."

"She spent pretty much the entire time working on that compote, they gotta love it," he assured her.

Chloe shook her head. "Spent the whole time doing that and now it's burned. She's got nothing."

"What did I walk into?" Adrien wondered aloud.

Both sets of eyes turned to him.

"Adrien," Plagg called, zooming forward to greet his friend as Chloe went to mute the television.

"Have you just been watching TV this whole time?" He asked.

"We were bonding," Chloe and Plagg said at the same time.

Adrien opened his mouth to respond, but shut it again a moment after, shrugging. "Well, that is what I asked for." He gently rubbed the top of Plagg's head. "You have a good time with Chloe?"

Plagg turned around and looked at her, uncertainty painted over his face. She only saw it for a moment, a few seconds at most, before he turned away. "Yeah," he assured Adrien. "She's great."

Chloe was under the distinct impression she'd just passed some sort of test. Barely.

Adrien beamed at the evaluation. "Glad to hear it." He turned his attention to her. "Ready to go out for another patrol?"

A bad feeling sunk in her stomach, some unexplained dread seeping into her skin. She ignored it, of course. Even for such a short time, she wielded the fundamental force of destruction, incomparable to the measly power the Bee Miraculous brought. It was hardly the sort of thing a lowly criminal could lay low.

"Plagg, Claws Out." The feeling of the transformation surrounded her, strength and agility running through her body like volts on a wire.

She was unstoppable.

(:*:)

It was a harsh lesson Ladybug had learned some time ago about Akumas: while the Akumatization victim couldn't and shouldn't be blamed for their actions while Akumatized, as reflections of their character those actions could often be telling of their capabilities.

Nino as the Bubbler, pushed his tendency to put his own personal enjoyment over responsibility to its extreme. This wasn't to say he would start kidnapping parents and launching them into space, but that weakness the Bubbler exhibited came directly from Nino, she could see it.

Mrs. Bustier as Zombizo put overall peace over individuality or choice. It was easy to see in her tendency to deal with problems like Chloe and Lila how her Akumatized form would gain that trait.

So when people began disappearing, when there was no bubble or statue or black knight to replace them, when days passed without a sign, Ladybug knew they were dead.

Which meant the person who had been Akumatized had the capacity for direct, coldblooded, murder. It was far from the first time, but to have it paired so easily with stealth and precision made the implications decidedly unpleasant.

If the killings were targeted, she might be able to find a pattern, track the Akuma down and stop it. If the killings were random, she'd simply have to wait until it made a mistake. But there was another possibility that made her skin crawl whenever she considered it: the killings were practice. Akumas always had some instinctual knowledge of their powers, but more often than not, their downfall came by overestimating or not fully understanding them, but for an Akuma like this to practice its powers, to practice murder so it could kill them and take their Miraculouses. She hated to think of it.

The fact Chat Noir wasn't answering her calls only made it worse.

So what was she doing? Was she working with Alya trying to find a connection betwen the disappearances? Was she back in the office finishing the Winter line or, god forbid, back home getting some sleep? No. She was perched on a rooftop in the same general area the last disappearance took place, straining her eyes in the darkness looking for something, any sign the Akuma was there.

Ladybug sighed, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the frigid breeze. While technically it was still Autumn, Winter's bite was already making itself known.

"And I'm sitting on top of a roof, cold and alone, because I might catch a glimpse of a murderer that I'm, obviously, going to take down all by myself," she mumbled sarcastically to herself. "Ladybug: Queen of Plans, that's what they call me."

She waited another ten or so minutes before standing up, ready to give up the vigil and try something else.

She wouldn't have seen it if she hadn't been staring directly at it. For a fraction of a second, the streetlamp ahead of her seemed to flicker as a dark shape passed in front of it, moving unnaturally quickly.

Her eyes narrowed as she watched the shape move. Bingo.

With a flick of her wrist, her yoyo shot forward, wrapping around a chimney, and she pulled herself to the next rooftop, then the next, and the next, chasing the figure, almost invisible in the night.

She didn't think there was anywhere in Paris the streetlights couldn't reach, yet here this Akuma was, scuttling through shadows like a cockroach in the light.

Suddenly its movements changed, faster, more sporadic and her eyes narrowed as she quickened her pursuit as well.

It had seen her.

She moved across rooftops, then alleys, then streets, as it kept changing venues trying to lose her. It would take out a light, she'd block a door. It would crash through a window, she'd swing barriers in front of it. It would dive for a person, she'd wrench them out of the way. No. This Akuma may have been good, but nothing could match the sheer practice and skill she'd acquired over years of superheroics, and with each new attempt its desperation grew. She was gaining ground, it knew.

Finally, she cornered it, in some long closed cafe, one doorway and she was in front of it. No more running. "That was quite a chase you led me on," she said evenly, staring down two ice blue eyes with catlike slits. With one hand, she reached over to the lightswitch and flicked it on, both of them wincing for a moment as they adjusted to the light.

The Akuma's outfit was far from the flashy pastels most tended to be, but as far as exceptions to the rule, why should it stop at appearance? Black boots with steel bottoms, black trousers that seemed to shift from denim to spandex as it moved, bare pale arms ending in leather gloves sharpened into cat claw points, it was reserved, to be sure, but that wasn't what drew her eye. Because on her face, as it was indeed a 'her,' was a flat mask, black as night, running from the bottom of her chin to the tops of her spiky golden hair, its only ornaments diamond shaped holes for her eyes, and twin points at the top like some caricature of a cat's ears.

"Cute," Ladybug remarked, idly, her gaze finally shifting from the ears to her eyes once again, the only part of her face that was visible through the mask. "But you should really leave the cat motif to my partner."

The catlike girl's eyes flicked from left to right as she searched for a clean escape, finding none. She pressed herself flat against the wall, like just wishing hard enough would make it give way, but to no avail.

Ladybug put her hands on her hips. "You're not much of a talker, are you?"

To Ladybug's surprise, she shook her head in response.

"Most Akumas would have said their name by now, at least," she began spinning her yoyo around, stepping forward. "It probably won't matter, but is there at least something I can call you? You can't just keep being, 'the Akuma' in my head."

Her voice was muffled from behind the mask, warped somewhat but clear enough to be understandable. "You're awfully chatty when your partner's not around."

"So she speaks." Ladybug continued forward, yoyo still spinning, poised for whatever tricks she might pull. "And who says my partner's not around?"

She couldn't tell through that damnable mask, but she suspected the Akuma was smirking. "Call it a hunch."

She was only a few feet away when Ladybug finally stopped advancing. "Fine, then, don't give me a name. I'll just make something up to put on those Akuma tracker sites."

"I've seen those sites," she remarked, muscles tensing. "Not a fan." Before Ladybug's yoyo could smash into the wall where she'd just been standing, she sprung to the side, sliding over the counter and out of sight.

It didn't take more than an instant for her to yank the yoyo back to her hand and dive after the Akuma. The steel-toed kick to her face as she landed on the other side of the counter forced her to regret the reflex, however, and she forced eyes stinging with tears to follow her quarry as the Akuma dashed for the door once again.

Breaking out into the street, it seemed the Akuma had abandoned all pretense of staying out of sight. Speed and escape became her only goals. By the way she moved through the streets, it seemed she knew Paris pretty well.

It was a shame Ladybug knew it so much better.

The Akuma was diving between and around civilians who had apparently not taken the hint they should run yet, so using her yoyo could have been dangerous.

Using her body to tackle the Akuma into a grocery store, though? Perfectly safe.

It was possible going so long with magic powers that allowed her to reset all damage once an Akuma was caught made Ladybug a bit reckless. Though, fighting to save a Chat Noir that had almost definitely been killed certainly didn't help anything.

The Akuma rolled to her feet, shards of glass from the window they'd just smashed through falling off her like raindrops.

"You know, for all the robots, babies, and countless other strange Akuma's I've fought, you might be the weirdest." The Akuma was crouched, poised to move, but beyond a few heavy breaths she didn't. "No name, no demand for my Miraculous, you haven't even attacked me yet." Ladybug quirked her head. "Why?"

"Would you give me your Miraculous if I demanded it?" She asked.

"No," Ladybug answered, evenly.

"Then what's the point of demanding it?" Her eyes flicked left and right again, just like they had in the cafe, before locking on Ladybug's. "If I told you my name, would you let me go?"

Ladybug frowned. "No."

The Akuma shrugged, voice unchanging. "Then what's the point of giving it?"

Her frown deepened.

"If I attacked you, would I win?" At Ladybug's silence, she laughed, hollowly. "I think my 'strangeness' says more about the quality of Hawkmoth's minions than it does about me."

Ladybug pushed the separation she used for Hawkmoth to the back burner. "I don't think you can really comment on the state of 'Hawkmoth's minions,'." She said, icily. "Especially considering most of them aren't murderers."

"Does it make a difference the people I killed were all unrepentant killers and criminals, themselves?" She asked in return.

"Murder is murder," Ladybug answered, flatly. "You're kidding yourself if you think there's some kind of righteous justice to it."

She quirked her head. "Are you saying if Hawkmoth was in this room, right now, you wouldn't kill him?"

Ladybug took a step back, shocked by the question. "What? Absolutely not."

"I would," she admitted easily.

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you even an Akuma?"

"I really couldn't say anymore," she admitted, no sadness in her voice, but a sort of detached introspection, instead. "Do you think you're only an Akuma while the butterfly's inside you? Or is there some part of Hawkmoth left behind, even when it leaves?"

Ladybug furrowed her brows, confused. "What are you saying?"

She sighed, staring off into space for a moment. "I suppose it doesn't matter." She considered for a moment. "Catspaw."

"Catspaw?"

"My name," she said, by way of explanation. "It seemed fitting." She crouched down, placing her fingers on the ground like a sprinter at the starting line.

Ladybug started spinning her yoyo once again. "I thought you said there was no point in giving a name."

"I did. But it wouldn't be fair to leave without giving you something to remember me by," she answered.

"You don't have to do this. If you stop fighting me, I can help you," Ladybug said, pleadingly.

"See, that's the funny thing." Catspaw looked up, humor glinting in her slit eyes. "I genuinely believe you could."

Ladybug was expecting a frontal assault, first and foremost, but a retreat wasn't out of the question. Most of all, the fact Catspaw hadn't shown whatever method she'd used to make those people disappear was never far from her mind. All of this, she was expecting.

Catspaw didn't do any of this.

She jumped, sailing overhead and landing through the glass doorway, already smashed from their entrance, and onto the street outside.

There was an expression in her eyes, that tickled some familiarity in Ladybug's mind. If the mask didn't cover her whole face, if her eyes themselves weren't so inhuman, if she held there for more than a moment before dashing away on all fours, maybe she could have recognized it. As it was, Catspaw disappeared into the night, leaving Ladybug with little more than a feeling.

She tried to follow, but even the brief gap Catspaw was out of sight seemed to be enough to lose her. The fact her muscles were starting to ache from the long chase didn't help.

It was the work of a few minutes more, Marinette was once again sequestered in her apartment, her transformation undone.

"You didn't catch the Akuma?" Tikki asked, floating beside her with a worried expression.

Marinette filled a glass of water from the sink, downing it in a few gulps before slumping down on an armchair. "Tikki, if you were ever passed on to someone else, do you think some part of you would stay with me?"

Tikki considered for a minute. "I really don't know," she admitted, eventually. "I'd like to think so."

Marinette hummed for a moment, thoughts of the strange conversations she'd had filtering through her mind. "No," she answered, eventually. "I didn't catch the Akuma."

"Are you alright?" Tikki asked, next.

Marinette's muscles protested as she made to stand again, but she forced through it with the skill of someone used to overexertion.

"I need some air." She made it to the door and Marinette once again entered the cold streets of Paris.

(:*:)

Chloe Bourgeois staggered into her apartment, wincing as every other step knifed pain through her exhausted frame. Her transformation had faded long before, leaving the walk back to her apartment almost unbearable.

She grimaced down at her left leg and the angry brown and purple bruise spreading down it like a stain on her skin. She hadn't been sure the first few blocks, but it was definitely broken. At first she assumed it was when they crashed into the grocery store, but it could easily have happened back when she'd tried kicking Ladybug in the face and the adrenaline prevented her from feeling it until then.

With gritted teeth, she shoved past a concerned Adrien and made it to the couch, collapsing a moment after.

Being punished for her hubris was hardly new for her, but it almost never happened quite so quickly.

Plagg floated alongside her, trying to mask his own concern, but it showing just as clearly on him as it did on Adrien. With some difficulty, she finally wrenched the ring from her hand and passed it to the speechless model, reaching into her pocket to withdraw her cellphone.

"What happened?" Adrien finally managed to articulate, putting the ring on his own hand, causing Plagg to reappear a moment later.

Chloe ignored them, focusing on her phone as she typed out a call and held it to her ear. She hated the looks on their faces. It was her leg, not theirs; no need to look so torn up about it.

"112, what is your emergency?" The other end of the call finally connected.

"Yes, my leg is broken. I'd like an ambulance sent to my location," she answered, tersely. After an exchange or two more, she hung up the phone, assured an ambulance was on its way.

"Chloe, what is going on?" Adrien exploded when she was finally off the phone. "What happened out there, and if you were going to call an ambulance anyway instead of having me drive you to the hospital, what was the point of you getting all the way back here?"

"Oh, please, I had to return the ring," she said, like it was obvious. "I've had far too much jewelry get stolen at the hospital to risk losing something like that."

Adrien decided to table any discussion on whether or not any of the doctors had ever stolen her jewelry or if she had just misplaced or misremembered it, to another time. "And why didn't you just have me drive you to the hospital, since I'm already here and you're clearly in pain?"

She scoffed. "Maybe because you don't own a car, and mine's still on loan? I can fill you in on as many details as you want, Adrikins, but some of these should be pretty obvious."

He, likewise, ignored the patronizing tone she used. "Care to fill me in on some details about what exactly happened out there?"

"Ladybug happened," Chloe answered, visibly annoyed. "Which wouldn't have happened if you'd explained everything to her weeks ago."

Adrien cringed, visibly, at the accusation. "Okay, obviously I screwed up, there. I'm sor-"

She jabbed a finger at him, interrupting. "Say you're sorry, and you lose an eye," she warned, emphatically.

He held his hands up in surrender, opening his mouth to respond, but closing it again a moment later and simply nodding.

Chloe let her arm drop, sighing into the couch as she tried to ignore the throbbing pain in her leg. She wished the painful cuts and bruises she could feel littering other parts of her body distracted her, but they only seemed to draw the pain from her leg into sharper focus.

Plagg floated over to the TV remote and turned it on, flipping over to the cooking channel they'd been watching earlier.

"Plagg, this isn't the time for-" Adrien started to scold before the Kwami leveled a meaningful look at him, and tilted his head in the direction of Chloe. Adrien turned at what he was looking at, and nodded in understanding, letting his protest go.

Chloe stared blankly at the chefs, watching each color of the ingredients move back and forth in an almost soothing ritual. It didn't do anything to alleviate the pain, of course, but it was distracting enough, her leg wasn't all she was thinking about anymore.

They sat for ten minutes or so, the only sound coming from the TV, until finally the ambulance arrived. Chloe allowed herself to be carried in a stretcher and assured Adrien she'd be fine in the care of trained medical professionals, and that he should go home, already.

It looked like he was about ready to jump into the back of the ambulance, but finally, he relented. The doors closed and the ambulance sped away with Chloe inside.

X Rays, resetting the bone, tests, cast, treating her other injuries, questions, comments, the entire process seemed to last an absolute eternity where all Chloe could do was sit there and take it, granted take it with a smaller degree of agony which she greatly appreciated.

She was sure one of her earrings was missing when she finally left the hospital again. Annoying.

It shouldn't have been predictable when Alix was right outside as Chloe hobbled out on crutches, but somehow she'd already guessed she would be.

"You know, I thought we talked about calling me the next time you got hospitalized," Alix chided, frowning at the cast on Chloe's leg. "Who'd you piss off this time?"

Chloe moved unsteadily forward, eventually managing to climb into the passenger's seat of Alix's car before answering. "Ladybug."

Alix laughed, getting into the front seat. "Yeah, right." At the look on Chloe's face, though, she stopped laughing. "You're not kidding."

"I'm not exactly well known for my jokes," Chloe answered, deadpan.

An impressive groan sounded from Alix. "How did you even manage that?"

She shrugged. "There's a lot of moving parts, but the short version is: she thought I was an Akuma."

"And you didn't tell her you weren't?" Alix suggested, exasperatedly.

"That would have led to... awkward questions," she answered, impassively.

Alix threw her hands up. "Of course."

"It's just a broken leg." She rolled her eyes. "Hardly the first time."

"Absolutely not the point," Alix responded, solidly. "And still no excuse not to call me when you got hospitalized. You know I don't like hearing about it from Mindy."

"Legally, I'm pretty sure Mindy's not supposed to tell you when I get hospitalized," Chloe pointed out.

"Right, because you're oh-so obsessed with the law." Alix's tone was practically drowning in sarcasm.

"And you wonder why I tell people you're a dirty cop," Chloe observed, dryly.

Alix rolled her eyes, starting the car. "You're a handful, you know that?"

"You didn't have to come," Chloe mumbled, a yawn forcing its way out of her mouth. "It's the middle of the night."

"Right, I'm gonna let you take a cab back to your apartment and go up four flights of stairs on crutches." She said it like the idea was so ludicrous and not something Chloe had planned to do all along. "Besides, I wouldn't have had to come in the middle of the night if I thought you'd stay at the hospital like they probably told you to, for even a minute."

Chloe scowled. "I don't like doctors."

"You are a doctor," she pointed out. "But I know you don't, and I knew you wouldn't listen to them, which is why I'm here."

Chloe pressed her head against the cool glass of the window, the painkillers they'd given her feeling like they were draining her strength away. "I don't understand you."

Alix smiled, wanly, her eyes on the road as she drove on. "I know. But maybe someday, you will."

"Too tired to deal with you," she mumbled again, closing her eyes.

"Well go to sleep, you brat," Alix answered, her voice lacking any real venom. "I'll see you in the morning."

Chloe let the quiet hum of the car surround her, the cold glass press against her, and the slow drain of the anaesthetic pull her softly into sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Alix had never really planned on marrying anyone. It wasn't a conscious choice. She didn't wake up one day and say, 'no more dating,' or anything like that. She hadn't fully discounted the idea, either. She liked people, she liked weddings, and if she found someone she'd be happy with, then why not marry them? But at the same time, Alix would hear from couples at parties, or blogs online, or movies on TV, that before they'd met their husband or wife or whatever, it had felt like something was missing from their lives. They felt empty and incomplete without their 'other half.'

Alix felt fine.

So whenever the thought would occur, that it had been a while since she'd gone out on a date, or tried to meet someone at a bar or club or other cliched place, she would always simply shrug and return to whatever it was she was doing.

Why, then, after tucking Chloe into bed and answering the door to see a Marinette looking like she lost a fight with a pickup truck, did Alix feel like she was the proud mother of two teenage kids when last she checked, she'd never married anyone?

"Sorry, it's so late-" Marinette had begun to apologize, before Alix interrupted her.

"Are you kidding me?" Alix asked, disbelievingly. Marinette seemed just about to bolt like a frightened rabbit at the words, but she continued. "'Sorry it's late,' is something you say to plumbers when your toilet breaks at three in the morning. For me, you can just say, 'hi.'" She smiled, reassuringly, and walked back, gesturing Marinette to follow. "Come on, let's get some ice for that."

Marinette walked slowly inside and, somehow, the massive black eye she was sporting looked even worse in the light. Alix didn't have a dedicated ice pack, per-se, but she did have ice and plastic baggies, so good enough.

"Here," she handed the makeshift thing to Marinette, taking a seat in an armchair across from her. Marinette gave a muttered thanks, and held it against her face, the two of them sitting in silence for a few minutes. "It's not a boyfriend, is it?" Alix asked, eventually.

Marinette looked confused for a moment, before realization lit her face. "Ah, no, it's nothing like that." She pointed at her black eye, smiling thinly. "This is me getting into a fight with a stranger." Her hand dropped and she seemed to sag under an invisible weight. "It hasn't been a great day."

Her quiet admission almost echoed in the small apartment. "You wanna talk about it?"

"It's complicated." She lifted the icepack to her eye once again, and they sat in silence for a few minutes more. "Have you ever killed anyone?"

Alix's eyebrows shot up. "Did you kill someone?"

Marinette waved her arms, emphatically. "No. Absolutely not," she hesitated, biting her lip before admitting, "I was just thinking about Timebreaker."

"Ah." Alix sunk back into her chair. "So when you asked if I've ever killed anyone, you already had an answer."

Marinette's hands clenched into fists. "That was not you," she said, tersely. "That was your pain, and your body, and a heap of Hawkmoth's mind control, but it wasn't you."

"Thanks," Alix said after a moment. "I didn't get Akumatized as much as some people, but it did happen, and not everyone... shares the same opinion."

"They're wrong," she said, assuredly. "Anyone who thinks that, hasn't had to-" she held her tongue, shaking her head instead of finishing what she was going to say. "You don't have to answer. I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm asking."

It took a minute to gather her thoughts, Marinette looking like she thought Alix would throw her out in that time, before she spoke again. "I've never killed anyone," she said, carefully. Marinette opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Alix spoke again. "But I almost did."

Marinette perked her ears up, looking at her with a curious expression.

"It was when I was just starting out on the force," she sighed, settling into telling the story. "I was so eager, wanting to prove... something, I dunno. I was out with my partner when we got a call someone robbed a convenience store, jabbing the poor kid working the register with a knife and leaving him critical. Looking for the guy covered in blood with a bag full of cash, wasn't hard, but catching up to an armed suspect in the middle of the day when he could have lashed out and hurt any number of people was much harder. We got close, but not close enough, when he spotted us."

Marinette didn't make a noise, but Alix felt too tired to check if she was still listening.

"He grabbed a hostage, some little girl, and broke away down a side street. We followed him, he had a knife to her throat, and I had a clear shot."

"You shot him?" Marinette asked, softly.

"No." Alix's lips curled into a dry smile. "The little girl got Akumatized before I could. My partner and I took down the guy, Ladybug and Chat Noir took down her, and everyone went home." She shrugged. "It's always funny, when I describe it to people, how small of a thing it was. One random guy, one random day, and if it wasn't for one random Akuma, I would have shot him dead. He probably would have died, there was no guarantee the little girl would make it out okay, two lives hung in the balance, and it still seems so small. Makes me feel crazy." She looked down at her lap and her hands unconsciously clenched into fists, there. "Seemed so big back then."

"I'm sorry," Marinette whispered. "That must have been horrible."

"Oh, in the moment, I was sure I was gonna throw up," Alix confirmed. "But looking back on it now, I just feel relieved. I don't have to spend time going through all my thoughts at the time, all my actions, picking apart what I might have done differently, because it all worked out; why would I want to change that?"

Marinette bit her lip. "And what if it didn't work out?"

Alix shrugged. "My mentor used to say if it hasn't worked out yet, maybe you're not done with it." She smiled. "Though he'd say it with more yelling."

Finally, Marinette gave a true, grateful, smile. "Yeah, I guess I'm just not done with it yet."

"I hope this means you aren't gonna get into more fights with strangers," Alix quipped. "I have a list of people I've been wanting to arrest, and you're not on there."

Marinette laughed, but didn't deny anything. Slightly concerning, but Alix brushed it off. 'Slightly concerning' was still leagues ahead of what Chloe got up to.

"So, since we already both know your apartment isn't close, you wanna crash here, tonight?" Alix offered, hoping Marinette would say yes, if for nothing else than so she wouldn't have to see her try and limp out on clearly exhausted legs. She hadn't heard a car, either, had she walked all the way there in the middle of the night?

She smiled, sheepishly. "Would you mind?"

"Course not." Alix waved her off, standing. "Blankets haven't moved since the last time you were here, fridge is still in the same place, and I'm going to bed."

They bade each other a tired goodnight and Marinette began setting up the couch, while Alix stole a few pillows the unconscious Chloe wasn't using and set them up on the carpet.

"There we go," she mumbled to herself, lying down on the makeshift bed. "Just like camping."

Alix slid to sleep with the idle thought that, at this rate, she should probably invest in another bed.

(:*:)

Coffee. That was the only thought in Marinette's mind as she clawed her way back to consciousness. She'd had rough nights before, but this was on an entirely different level.

"Tikki, have I ever mentioned how happy I am Lucky Charm resets everything?" Otherwise, she might come out of every fight feeling as worn out and in pain as she did right then.

They weren't even really fighting, that was the worst part. Catspaw spent more time running and dodging than landing hits, and still Marinette felt like she'd been dropped off the Eiffel Tower.

She tried, futilely to make it off the couch so she could get some coffee, but to no avail. After a few minutes, an already showered and fully clothed Alix walked into view, smiling chipperly. "Morning, Marinette. Sleep well?"

"Coffee," she mumbled, draping an arm over her eyes like it would block out just how bright Alix's grin was.

"No coffee, but I got tea, if you want some of that," she offered.

"No... coffee?" Marinette's early morning brain refused to comprehend the idea.

Another voice broke in. "Chai, please, for two, Alix. It looks like Marinette needs it." The voice was helpful, calm, sensitive, ah, that's where she knew it from.

Doctor B had arrived.

Marinette tried to twist her neck to see her, but even that caused her muscles to twinge in protest and she gave it up after a moment.

When did Chloe even get there, anyway? Marinette was sleeping on the couch by the door, and even though she'd been totally exhausted, she wasn't that heavy of a sleeper. But if Chloe hadn't come in, was she there already? Did she live there?

No, Alix mentioned Chloe having an apartment, when she was there last time. So that just meant Chloe was sleeping over. Sleeping over with Alix.

Ah.

"Here." Marinette felt a warm mug being pressed into her hands. "It's hot, so don't hurt yourself."

Marinette slowly managed something resembling a sitting position and began sipping the brown liquid. It was sweet, spiced with vanilla and cinnamon, and a few other odds and ends she couldn't place. It was also caffeinated, even if it didn't seem to work quite as fast as her usual morning coffee.

The room finally coming into something like focus as she woke up, she could see Chloe and Alix with similar mugs, though Chloe seemed more preoccupied with her phone than any drink. "How do you live in Paris, the coffee capital of the world, without even a cup of instant?" Marinette asked, blearily.

Alix opened her mouth to respond, but Chloe did first, eyes never leaving her phone. "Vienna."

Both sets of eyes turned to her. "What?" Alix asked.

"Vienna is the coffee capital of the world," she elaborated.

Alix huffed, genially. "Why would you possibly know that?" Chloe only shrugged in response. "This is one of your cooking show things, isn't it?"

Marinette perked her ears up at this. "You watch cooking shows?"

Chloe set her phone down, locking eyes with Marinette. "From time to time," she answered, a shallow smile slicked over her face like a patch of ice on a dark road. Her eyes so cold, they itched at a part of Marinette's brain she couldn't quite scratch.

"More like all the time," Alix snorted. Chloe returned her attention to her phone, and the moment was lost. "You watch those shows, Marinette?"

"Yeah..." Marinette stared at Chloe, trying to pin down whatever memory her gaze had tickled. "From time to time."

Alix rolled her eyes, standing up to place her mug in the sink before walking into the other room. "Weirdoes."

Marinette's eyes trailed downward, seeing Chloe's leg in a cast, crutches leaning against the chair beside her. Looking closer at her face, she could see dark circles around her eyes beneath a thick layer of foundation.

Chloe was staying there last night. Because she was hurt and had nowhere else to go. The thought sent a twinge of pain through her chest. No mother, no father, did she even have friends outside of Alix?

'I didn't even know her name was Chloe.' The voice of Sushil, the restaurant owner echoed in her mind.

She feared the answer was no.

What if she could be Chloe's friend?

"I like cooking shows, too," Marinette said, suddenly. Too suddenly. Oh no. She'd already screwed up. This was a stupid idea. There were plenty of times she tried to make friends with Chloe in school and every one of them was shot down. Why did she think this time would be different? Why-

Chloe wasn't looking at her phone. She was looking at Marinette again, her eyes still that unsettling cold, but the plastic smile forgotten. "You're the daughter of two bakers," she pointed out. "You don't find it... manufactured?"

Marinette shrugged. "Maybe a little," she admitted. "Everyone's reactions are so big. There's epic music and moving cameras even for something like mixing in a bowl. They always seem to have some tragic backstory for why they're a chef instead of it just being what they wanted. Most of the time, it isn't even about the food." She smiled. "It's goofy, and melodramatic, and yes, maybe a bit manufactured. But it's fun, sometimes, to really care about something you don't have any control over, that, in the grand scheme of things, doesn't matter in the slightest."

Chloe hummed, still watching her. "Fun to care about something I have no control over?" She didn't say the words out loud, but Marinette could see her mouth them, a curious expression overtaking her face.

"You take your painkillers today, Chloe?" Alix called from the next room.

In an instant, the expression was wiped from Chloe's face, a vaguely annoyed one replacing it. "Unfortunately," she called back, petulantly.

"What happened?" Marinette asked. "To your leg, I mean."

Chloe looked down at it for a moment before looking at her again. "I kicked something I shouldn't have, and lost a fight with a door," she summarized, blandly. "Couldn't say which one actually broke my leg for sure, but there it is." She tilted her head. "You're not in great shape, yourself."

Marinette unconsciously lifted a hand to gently press against her black eye, hissing at the still sensitive bruise. "Yeah, I lost a fight... you should see the other guy," she joked, but Chloe didn't laugh, only raised an eyebrow.

"Since when do you get into fights?" She asked.

"I don't make a habit of it," Marinette defended, which was half-true. Ladybug got into fights all the time, but this was probably the first time anyone had seen Marinette recovering from the same. "Besides, people were getting hurt. I had to do something."

Chloe chuckled. "Still being our everyday Ladybug, huh?"

She couldn't help but smile at the childhood nickname, despite how uncomfortably close it came to her secret identity. "Guess so."

Alix came back into the room, adjusting the belt and jacket of her police uniform before looking up at the two. There was a piece of toast in her mouth that dropped into her hands when she was done arranging everything, and she used it like a tack to point at the girls. "I gotta go to work. Chloe, if I find out you've left this apartment, today, I'm fitting you with a house arrest bracelet. Marinette, keep icing that eye and grab whatever you want for breakfast. I know you've got your own work, so I'm not gonna threaten you with the same thing, but in case it wasn't obvious, you can stay as long as you want. Just ask Chloe if you can't find anything."

"And I'll say you live in a rathole, and I can't find anything here, either," Chloe sniped as Alix laughed her way out the door.

The sound of it slamming shut, her laughter echoing in the distance, reminded Marinette quite suddenly that she had next to nothing to actually talk to Chloe about, now that they were left alone in the apartment.

Chloe had no such issue. "So I heard you've been looking for me."

Marinette started at the sudden statement, not the least for its contents. "What? Who told you that?"

"The office," she admitted, easily. "They're really not supposed to call me outside of an emergency, but they've bothered me for less than someone coming in and requesting me specifically. I didn't realize you found our session that helpful." She considered for a moment. "Or were you looking for me for another reason?"

"I did find our session helpful," she insisted. "I tried talking to someone else at Honeycomb once or twice and it didn't get anywhere close. But... I'd by lying if I said I didn't have any questions."

Chloe hummed, considering for a minute. "Okay," she finally decided. "Then how about a trade? You'll ask me a question, I'll ask you one, back and forth until one of us gets bored." Her tone made it clear which one she though that would be. Marinette was about to agree, when Chloe held a finger a few inches away from her face. "And no lies."

"I'm not a liar," she protested, hotly.

Chloe's response was a decidedly unimpressed glare.

"Fine." Marinette held her hands up in surrender. "No lies." When Chloe eventually stopped glaring, she lowered her arms again. "Do you want to ask the first question, or should I?"

Chloe shrugged, leaning back in her chair and gesturing forward. "By all means."

Marinette bit her lip, trying to decide what question to ask. After waffling for too long, she finally decided on a more neutral question to start. "I know you didn't take leave from Honeycomb for family troubles. Why did you, really?"

"Adrien came to the office." She yawned. "I've been trying to help him get his affairs in order before he moves away."

Marinette's eyebrows furrowed. "You two still talk?"

"It's my question now, Dupain-Cheng," she chided, a touch of humor leaking into her voice before she grew serious once again. "Why did you come here last night?"

"What do you mean?" Marinette shifted, uncomfortably under her piercing gaze.

"I hear stories, from former classmates, coworkers, others, some of which hadn't spoken to you in years, and for whatever reason, they find you endlessly charming. It seems to me like there isn't a block in Paris where you couldn't find someone more than willing to take you in, no matter the inconvenience to them." She tilted her head, that measuring stare seeming to bore holes into Marinette's skin. "So why come here, in all of Paris, when your own parents are only a few doors down the way?"

Marinette opened her mouth to answer, but only an empty silence came out. Why? It was such a simple question, but even wracking her brain, no answer came. "I... really don't know," she admitted with a sigh. "When I left, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, I just had to go somewhere. I ended up here." Her shoulders moved in a half shrug. "I guess some part of me felt like here was the best place to go."

Chloe turned away, a frustrated breath escaping her lips.

"What?" Marinette pressed.

"I didn't expect to understand your answer," she admitted. "But I thought it would make some sense, at least."

"Sorry," Marinette whispered.

Chloe's jaw tightened at the word. "I hate that."

She blinked. "Sorry?"

"Yes." Chloe's face was fixed into a glare, staring off into nothing.

"Why?"

Chloe turned to look at her, measuring her carefully. "It's my question, now." She paused for a moment, wincing nearly imperceptibly as she adjusted her leg before her razor gaze sharpened on Marinette once again. "All those lists, every Ladyblog and news report, and I couldn't find it. I didn't think I'd forget it, but I had to be sure. You've never been Akumatized, have you?"

Why did it sound so much like an accusation when she said it like that?

"Well, no," she admitted, not quite sure what else to say. "There were some close calls," closer than she liked to think about, really, "but it's never actually happened."

For a moment, only a moment, Chloe's gaze softened from piercing to something resembling that curious expression from before. "Your question." The moment passed.

Marinette's lips curled into a frown. Obviously, Chloe wasn't pulling any punches with her questions. Fine, then. "You know something about Hawkmoth, don't you?"

Neither would she.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wha-they talk again? It hasn't been ten thousand words yet, this is ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.


	9. Chapter 9

There was a clock somewhere in the room. Maybe it was buried under discarded clothing or hidden behind the slipshod arrangement of furniture, but it was there. The relentless ticking noise never failed to fill the silent gaps of their discussion: this little question game.

"You're not very smart," Chloe said bluntly, letting the ticking consume the silence that followed.

Marinette pressed. "That's not an answer."

"Do I know something about Hawkmoth?" She scoffed. "What do you want me to say? Of course I do, everyone knows something about Hawkmoth. I could just answer 'yes,' and it'd be right back to my next question."

"Then why haven't you?" Marinette had realized her mistake right after saying it, but even outright acknowledging what she needed to do, Chloe still hadn't answered.

"Because you'll just ask the same thing next time; maybe it'll be phrased better, maybe it won't, but it'll be the same." She shook her head. "Boring." Her hands clenched into fists. "Besides, I don't need that to beat you."

Marinette couldn't stop herself recoiling backward from the sheer fury in Chloe's voice, so focused directly at her.

"He's somewhere in his fifties, rich, used to ordering people around, doesn't like attention, married or heavily involved with a woman who knows his secret, he has more than cursory knowledge of Miraculouses, but not enough to know what each one does, specifically. He's impatient, but dedicated, and he works in a field that doesn't notice him disappearing during the normal work day. He's sadistic, enjoys playing to people's emotions, manipulative, stubborn, with an average build, and obsessive tendencies. So yes, Dupain-Cheng, I know 'something' about Hawkmoth. I know more about him than anyone on this planet who doesn't know his real name. Now," she leaned back with a smug expression, "it's my question."

Marinette's head was spinning, trying to process what she said, to latch onto anything. The sheer amount Chloe knew about someone Ladybug had been trying to find for years and coming up with nothing was... absurd. No.

It was ridiculous.

"You like Adrien Agreste, but even after all this time, even when he's four days away from leaving, you haven't told him. Why?" It was just as piercing as the other questions, but it was the shift in subject that set her teeth on edge.

"I don't want to talk about that," she left the 'with you,' unsaid.

Chloe shrugged. "Okay," she said easily. "Then you lose."

It was so childish, so petty, so classic Chloe. Marinette wasn't a kid anymore. She had self control, discipline. Every word her coworkers had said about her as she worked on and on, diligently rising up in Monsieur Agreste's fashion company, had slipped right off her like water off vinyl. So why, when Chloe prodded her with such a simple challenge, was it so hard to say no?

"Adrien..." she gritted her teeth, "likes someone else."

"I know." Marinette blinked at the simple words, looking up to see Chloe's impassive expression. "So what?"

She was expecting teasing, like the younger Chloe, or maybe even some counseling advice like the Chloe of now, but 'so what,' was something she hadn't planned for. "So what? I already told you, he doesn't like me that way. If I confess, it'll just make things awkward, and might ruin what we have."

"He's leaving in four days," she reiterated. "How much awkwardness could there possibly be in four days? Besides, hasn't it ever occurred to you that after all these years, he still doesn't have the girl he's been chasing? It's because she's not interested." Chloe rolled her eyes. "At this point, if you confess, he can decide to stop pining over people who have already rejected him and start dating you, or he'll keep on chasing for a handful of days, and before you know it he'll be efficiently out of your life. So explain again why you still haven't said anything?"

"I..." she didn't have an answer. "Why do you care?" Marinette snapped, the anger and frustration at Chloe, at Adrien's leaving, even at herself, finding refuge in her voice.

Chloe hesitated. It was small, barely even noticeable if she hadn't been looking for it, but it was there. "It's not your question."

"Maybe it is my question." Marinette stood up. "You ask why I came here, fine. You ask if I've never been Akumatized, I can see why you might be curious. But in what universe does Chloe Bourgeois care about my love life?"

"I don't," she said, adamantly.

Marinette threw her hands up. "Then why ask it at all?"

Chloe opened her mouth, but no sound came out. After a moment, she closed it again, her countenance darkening. "Fine, then. You don't like that question, I'll ask a different one: why are you always pretending to be so weak?"

"I don't 'pretend' to be anything," Marinette bristled. "And I don't appreciate the implication I'm a liar."

Chloe chuckled, humorlessly. "Oh, okay. I guess we're playing that game, then. Sure, let's do a little recap. You hobble along like a bird with a broken wing in front of Gabriel Agreste, so he has to send you to Honeycomb. You wait in front of the door until Juleka has to drag you inside, instead of just walking in, yourself. You moon over Adrien for years and say nothing, even when he tells you before anyone else that he's leaving. You come here, in the middle of the night, and the broken bird act gets trotted out again, forcing Alix to sleep on the floor in her own home. You say you have questions about me, but you ask about Hawkmoth, like we're somehow in league with each other." She sneered. "Hawkmoth preys on the weak, feeds on them. He's a monster who doesn't deserve even the slightest bit of mercy, but he's also how I know you're not weak: because you've never been Akumatized. So stop pretending."

"That's why you've hated me all this time?" Marinette asked, disbelievingly. "You think I'm playing up everything I do for sympathy like I'm some kind of..." the fury died in her throat as realization struck her. "Lila," she finished. "That's what I am, to you, isn't it? I'm your Lila Rossi."

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "What are you...?"

"No, it makes so much sense." Marinette slumped back onto her seat on the couch, shaking her head as so many memories seemed to click into place. "I took your seat, took your friends." She shook her head. There was always a filter in her mind, when she thought of everything she'd done to Chloe. 'I was in the right,' it whispered to her.

Chloe was a bully, a tormentor of everyone in the class. Of course Marinette was in the right. Maybe when they were kids, that would have been enough, but now...

If she stripped away all the feelings, the righteous justice she'd surrounded herself with, and just looked at the actions, at Chloe, she saw something else. "I turned everyone against you."

Just like Lila Rossi.

Chloe quirked her head, face expressionless. "You didn't know?"

Marinette ran a hand through her hair, more memories, more circumstances rushing by her. "I didn't... I never..." she took a deep breath, trying to regain some stability to her speech. "I never saw it that way before."

"It's not like it matters." She shrugged. "They would have turned against me either way."

"Maybe," Marinette hedged, "but without my constantly butting heads with you, it probably would have been better, at least. Chloe, I'm so sor-" Chloe's glare stopped the words. After a moment, Marinette swallowed and started again. "I don't like feeling... weak." Her hands clenched into fists. "I don't want pity, or sympathy, I didn't even want Monsieur Agreste to worry about me, it felt awful having him give me that card. I wish I could look, and act, and be as strong as you think I am, but I can't." A shaky sigh escaped her. "I don't know how, at least."

Chloe stood up, maneuvering one crutch as a sort of cane to lean on. "You're not a very good liar." The words stung, but Marinette couldn't say she was very surprised by them. When she thought of Chloe, 'forgiving' was rarely the first word that came up. Before she could make any response, however, a hand appeared in her vision, outstretched. "So I'll believe you, this time."

Dumbstruck, Marinette took her hand, shaking it gently.

"I don't like you," Chloe warned. "But Alix clearly does, so if you're going to be around more often, then constantly fighting you would be a ridiculous inconvenience."

It was cold, even callous, but honestly Marinette would take any step forward at that point. "I understand." She didn't, actually, but what else was there to say?

By the silence that shrouded the room after the declaration, apparently the answer was 'not much.' Chloe returned to her seat, and Marinette sipped her tea, long gone cold.

After a while squirming in the too-quiet room, Marinette finally spoke again. "Your favorite color?" She whispered.

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I-" Marinette cleared her throat, uncomfortably, speaking a little louder this time. "I think it's my question, so I asked what your favorite color is?"

Chloe considered her carefully for a few moments. "Red," she answered eventually.

It wasn't a very hard question, just something to try and break the ice again, really. So why did it surprise her so much? "Not yellow?"

Chloe leaned back on the couch, her bright yellow sleeveless shirt somehow catching even more light. "I don't look good in red," she answered evenly. "You're the fashion designer, you should know."

"Oh... I like red, too," Marinette answered, lamely.

It occurred to her in the uncomfortable quiet following that statement, that if she ran out of the apartment, Chloe probably couldn't chase her. Admittedly, that wasn't the most mature reaction to the situation, but it was true.

"Do you like... milk?" Chloe asked a few minutes later, startling Marinette.

"Milk?" She echoed.

"Alix likes milk," Chloe explained, sounding like she couldn't believe what she, herself, was saying. "So, do you like milk?"

"Oh," Marinette hesitated for a moment. "Uh, yeah, I like... milk."

Chloe nodded. "Good. Cool."

The next span of time where no one said anything was made slightly more bearable to Marinette by the fact it wasn't entirely her fault that time.

"I'm going to turn on the TV now, and pretend you don't exist for a while," Chloe elucidated carefully, picking up the remote as she did so.

Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah, let's do that."

The next few hours were filled with cooking show after cooking show, only interrupted by the occasional slew of advertisements between each slice of programming. Neither of them said anything during it, which was probably for the best, Marinette thought. Their 'question game,' seemed to have been brought to an abrupt end.

It was... horrible, both the questions she asked and the answers she had to give. To top it all off, it felt like she had more questions about Chloe now than ever. But, at the same time, she couldn't actually find it within herself to regret it.

Because, in amongst all the awkwardness and uncomfortable probing there was a sliver of knowledge she'd managed to glean. It felt like the door to understanding Chloe had been opened just the tiniest crack.

She looked over at the girl, already fallen asleep long ago, succumbing to the numbing force of whatever pain medication she was using for her leg.

There were more questions she'd need to ask, about Hawkmoth, about Adrien, but more than that to force the door open a little further. Chloe wasn't some irrational being of hatred when they were in school together, she was just a lonely kid.

A kid whose favorite color was red.

Marinette couldn't help the smile sneaking its way on her face at the thought.

"I don't understand you, Chloe Bourgeois," she whispered to her sleeping form. "But I want to."

A quiet snore was Chloe's only answer. That was okay. In baking, in designing, even in superheroing, patience was key. Marinette could wait as long as she needed. She would figure Chloe out, she'd already decided.

Now, it was only a matter of when.

(:*:)

Alya was no stranger to facing danger. Honestly, she was probably present at more Akuma attacks than anyone but Ladybug and Chat Noir by that point. But that didn't mean she was free from fear.

Fear of Akumas was only natural, Alya could have been killed by them many times over if not for Ladybug's intervention.

Fear of flying strayed slightly further into the irrational, but having suffered through multiple unfortunate flight experiences while moving as a child, this too was understandable.

Fear of Nino Lahiffe, in all his hundred and twenty pound glory, was firmly irrational.

Yet here she was, heels digging into the ground while Marinette pushed her along, yearning a sudden Akuma appearance so she didn't have to see him.

"I'm really sorry, Alya," Marinette grunted as she pushed her along. "But remember, we're doing this for Adrien."

"Adrien'll be fine." She dug her heels in further. "I'll just send him a text before he goes. He doesn't have to see all of us."

"You don't mean that." Marinette kept pushing.

"No, I don't," Alya admitted. "This just really sucks."

Marinette smiled, reassuringly. "I know, but you want to do this for Adrien, and I'll be right there with you the whole time, I promise."

There was a part of Alya that hated how much that made her feel better, but rankling over Marinette trying to help her was like yelling at the sun for rising in the morning.

With a resigned sigh, she stopped resisting and allowed herself to be pulled along completely by the far too bubbly designer.

Alya stared down at her beaming face with a bemused expression. "What's gotten into you? Really that excited to see Adrien again?"

Her smile flickered. "I am excited to see him," she said, carefully. "But I'm also really nervous. Yesterday, I was talking to Chloe and... I'm gonna tell him."

"Tell him what?" At Marinette's expression, Alya's eyes widened. "Oh. Tell him that. Are you sure?"

Marinette's smile, far from the bright light it was only moments before, now seemed exceptionally brittle. "He's going to be gone in three days, Alya. No matter what happens, if he likes me back, if he doesn't, I don't want to keep holding on to this."

Alya slapped her on the back. "Go get 'im, girl. He'd have to be crazy to turn you down."

She laughed, weakly. "Hope you're right."

The bar Adrien had chosen wasn't out of the way so much as it was deliberately hidden. Tucked between an antique bookstore and something that must have previously been a cafe before it was shut down, it was no surprise it took them a few minutes searching up and down the block for an entrance. Also, while there was no real proof of this, Alya suspected the cafe was shut down for health code violations.

Still, Adrien had said he'd spent more time than appropriate hiding out from his bodyguards and assistants in the place, so she couldn't blame him having a fondness for it.

They walked into the bar's darkened interior, bearing the stinkeye from a seriously inebriated man seemingly stuck to the bartop with the remnants of countless spilled drinks, and worked their way toward the back, where a grinning Adrien waved them over to a booth.

Nino was already there, of course, because there was no such thing as good luck in Alya's life, as was Kagami, looking every bit the disciplined and dignified girl Alya had met before, but moving with a confidence and grace that was decidedly new.

"I'm so glad you could make it." Adrien hugged them both, while Nino and Kagami slid over in their seats so the new arrivals could sit. Marinette, godlike friend that she was, sat next to Nino so that Alya could be as far away from him as possible.

The relief she felt at that turned her stomach.

Nino wasn't a bad guy, quite the opposite, really. He was sweet, and reliable, and honest, too honest. He told her it wasn't working, broke it off with her, and told her he hoped they could remain friends.

So Alya swallowed her tongue and told him she'd like that.

Coward.

There was no reason she should have been afraid of him. He was nice and she knew from experience he couldn't hurt a fly. But when she saw him after that, it felt like he'd reached into her chest and started scratching at her heart.

She forced her eyes to look away. Things didn't work out: that happened, sometimes.

As Adrien slid in next to Marinette, and Alya saw the plain adoration on her face, though, she hoped harder than anything else, Marinette would never have to feel the way she did.

It was a few drinks, a plate of nachos, and a wide assortment of stories the assembled had collected over the years featuring Adrien, before Kagami leaned over to whisper in Alya's ear.

"She seems quite taken with him, even now," she noted, watching as Marinette and Adrien teased each other, wrapped in some friendly argument from days past. "I hope Adrien knows how lucky he is, to have someone look at him that way."

"Adrien's a great guy," Alya whispered back, surprised that Kagami said anything to her considering they were practically strangers. "But when it comes to this, I don't think he knows anything." Her eyebrows furrowed. "You're not upset, though? I thought you hated Marinette."

"Hate?" Kagami raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into the tiniest indicator of amusement. "If I hated everyone I ever had a childhood rivalry with, I doubt I'd make it through the day without an aneurysm. The list is not short." She shrugged. "I consider Adrien a good friend, only. Any aspirations for otherwise, I put to girlish fancy."

Alya finished off her drink. "Guess I can't argue with that. With how competitive journalism can be, I've got more rivals now than I think I'll ever need, and I don't actually hate them." She considered for a moment. "Okay, Trixie Raccourci, I hate, but she's the only one."

Kagami chuckled, softly, the ice in her glass clinking together as she picked it up. "He's hardly my type, anyway. Why would I begrudge her making an attempt at happiness?"

Alya considered making some kind of snark on how a literal supermodel wasn't her type, but honestly, she couldn't help but agree. Relentlessly upbeat naivete could be cute every once in a while, but for actual dating she preferred someone a bit more worldly.

Her eyes moved to Nino for a moment before she forced them away again.

Kagami caught the movement. "Ah, I'm sorry. I've reminded you of your troubles." She slid back over, closer to the wall. "It was not my intention."

"What are you two chatting about?" Adrien asked, some teasing cadence remaining in his voice from his conversation with Marinette.

"Trixie Raccourci," Kagami answered, easily. "And, for the record, I find her writing unbelievably dull."

"I didn't know you followed Ladybug reporting," Adrien commented.

"I was curious what her thoughts on Ladybug and Chat Noir's secret identities were." Her lips curled into a small distasteful frown. "I found her conclusions... underwhelming."

"Ugh, yeah. She was way off," Marinette agreed, making a face. After a moment, she suddenly looked away, rubbing the back of her neck, nervously. "You know, probably."

"Well what kind of person do you think Ladybug is?" Nino hadn't talked all that much during the conversation before, but that wasn't wholly unusual for him. Despite how extroverted the DJ was, he'd never exactly been 'chatty'.

Kagami considered for a moment before answering. "I would imagine a popstar, some famous dancer or singing sensation."

"A popstar?" Marinette asked, disbelievingly. "Why?"

"Athletic, graceful, confident," Kagami ticked off each of her fingers in turn. "She's clearly shown she knows her way around recording and broadcast equipment multiple times, beyond being a natural in interviews. If she is not a popstar, perhaps she should consider the occupation."

Alya had to hand it to her, that was some solid logic, and an avenue she'd never considered before, besides.

"I don't know," Nino differed. "Being a popstar's, like, super demanding, and she'd constantly be followed by her manager and crew. If an Akuma attacked during a show, how'd she be able to get out of it? How'd she be able to lose her entourage all the time, too? That'd be like Adrien needing to escape his bodyguard and assistant, plus whatever photoshoot he was in, every time he needed to be Chat Noir. No offense, dude," Nino assured Adrien. "You'd make a totally cool Chat Noir, your schedule's just too dreck to pull it off."

"None taken." Adrien laughed. "My schedule is legitimately awful."

"I have seen Adrien escape his assistants with nothing but a park bench and a hat." Kagami leaned back with satisfaction. "I've no doubt Ladybug could develop the same skill."

Alya nodded. Another point for Kagami.

"Okay, but hear me out, here," Nino proposed. "Ladybug: stuntwoman."

An amused eyebrow raise was Kagami's only response.

"That counts for athletic, graceful, and confident," Nino continued, counting on his fingers like she had before. "Of course she'd know how all the TV stuff worked, and she could be more of a free agent, so she wouldn't need to constantly ditch people to transform. It also explains how she can do stuff like jump off rooftops and throw herself into danger so easily. She gets tons of practice."

"She would have received that practice either way." Alya hadn't seen as much of Adrien's fencing practice as Marinette had, but if Kagami's foil counterattack was half as good as her verbal one, she had no doubt it was a sight to behold. "Ladybug started as a child, long before any kind of career of the like could begin, and while there are adolescent stunt doubles in rare cases, particularly if that is the family business, I'm afraid Adrien can confirm that there aren't any living in Paris that even get close to matching Ladybug's profile. If your idea is that she became a superhero because she was a stunt double, I'm sorry to tell you, your order of events just isn't right."

"You know, funnily enough, you don't seem all that sorry to tell me that," Nino snarked.

"No," she admitted, idly looking down at her nails. "I actually took great pleasure in it."

As cathartic as it was for Alya to watch Nino get a verbal smackdown, Marinette was beginning to look a bit distressed by the exchange, so she threw her a bone. "What about you, Marinette? What do you think Ladybug does for a living?"

This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say, as Marinette choked on air for a few moments before forcing out an answer. "I don't know... what if she were a journalist?"

This pricked Alya's eyebrows up. "How do you figure?"

"I mean, she's always there, right? It wouldn't be hard to explain away any disappearances, if she was always heading toward the Akuma anyway. She could write about them just fine, if she experienced them, herself. It would explain how she could work the recording equipment..." Marinette chuckled, shrugging. "I mean, it makes sense, right?"

"I prefer my popstar theory," Kagami answered, but didn't argue against the idea Marinette posed, apparently growing bored of the whole thing.

The conversation drifted on to other topics, but Alya did feel better, if only slightly, to be sitting near Nino. It was easy to forget, in all the things she thought of him, that he was her friend, once.

She looked over at Adrien, laughing at some joke Marinette had told, both of them the picture of contentment. She couldn't imagine them losing that.

Maybe Marinette would be alright after all.

(:*:)

"I'm sorry, Marinette."

The blood pounded in her ears, almost drowning out the words from the sheer mortification she felt.

After dinner, after the bar, after Alya and Nino and Kagami had long gone home, Marinette and Adrien had stayed together.

Then she had told him.

"You're... sorry?" Her brain hadn't connected to the words. She knew the meaning, of course. She knew it was over. But somehow the individual words wouldn't process.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," he reiterated, awkwardly. "You're my best friend, I wish I could make you happy, but... I love someone else."

So what?

She wished she could say the words, that ironclad response Chloe had passed back so effortlessly, but her lips wouldn't work, her tongue wouldn't move.

She had told him she loved him.

Adrien said no.

He was her friend. He loved someone else. He rejected her advances politely. She couldn't blame him for anything.

Marinette dripped with self-loathing.

She couldn't control who he loved. She wouldn't want him to sacrifice his own happiness just for her.

Marinette seethed with self-contempt.

"I'm so sorry, Marinette. I wish things were different, but I can't lie about how I feel," Adrien said, reasonably. So reasonable, always.

Sorry? The word finally clicked in her head. Did he say he was sorry?

Adrien hadn't done anything wrong, though. He didn't have to love her, neither of them had any control over it. It was just a bad situation. It happened all the time. If he could have somehow orchestrated it, that would have taken dedication and luck bordering on the impossible. Honestly, if he had pulled it off she'd be more likely to be impressed than mad about it. He had nothing to be sorry for at all.

"Marinette? Are you okay?" He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, but still she didn't move. "I'm really sorry. I don't want to stop being friends over this."

He said sorry again, she noted. Why did he keep saying sorry?

"Marinette? I'm sorry."

Stop.

"Can you hear me? I said I'm sorry."

Stop it.

"I'm sor-"

"Stop saying that word. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it." She screamed at him, the sound echoing in the empty night.

Adrien gaped, struck dumb by the statement.

Marinette couldn't believe it, herself.

She took a step back, then two. Adrien reached out a hand, but by then she had already turned and ran.

When her lungs began to burn from exertion, when her tears began to blind her, when wild eyes cast to the skies saw no black butterflies, only then did she stop, slipping into an alley out of sight of the tourists and partiers still awake at that late hour.

She wondered, as she smudged the eye makeup she'd used to cover her bruise with every new track of tears, if this is what her friends thought Ladybug was; some pathetic little girl, crying in a corner after a rejection.

Somehow, she doubted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not trying to vilify Adrien or Nino, here. It's just a bad situation that nobody really has much control over.
> 
> Also Kagami's here! Did not expect her to talk in this chapter. That was weird.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are purely unsubstantiated rumors, but there might be small amounts of shipping fuel in this shipping fic. You didn't hear it from me, though.

The voice was clear and crisp, like the air, with that same coldness that lingered in her bones. On another day, a different time, Marinette might have said it was cruel, but beneath the burning self-loathing she felt, the heat in her tears, the coal in her throat, the sound was like a knife through the swirl her thoughts had become. "Do you want to hear a funny story?"

There was no Akuma waiting for Marinette in that alley, Adrien's rejection still stinging her eyes. There should have been. She'd seen people Akumatized for far less, and yet there wasn't. Was this what Chloe called strength?

"What are you doing here?" Marinette choked out. She couldn't look up, refused to. Chloe had seen her cry before, made her cry, even, but this felt different. She could accept any expression Chloe could have given right then, except pity. If she looked up and saw pity on Chloe's face, Marinette was sure an Akuma would come.

Chloe shrugged, the action visible in the corner of Marinette's eye. "Do you want to hear the story, or not?"

"Sure." She curled her knees up to her face, burying her eyes there, even as the pain from her bruised one protested the action.

"Alix used to drink coffee all the time," Chloe began, leaning heavily against the wall. "She was addicted, really, going through pots and pots of the stuff before she graduated from police academy. When she could make it at home, she'd make it at home, and when she couldn't, there was a place right by the academy she went to instead. Now, during the times she usually went there, a girl was working named Jean, or Jeannean, or Je'ann, or something like that, and she absolutely sucked at making coffee."

Marinette shifted so the cool alley wall pressed against her back, still not entirely sure where this story was going.

Chloe went on. "She couldn't work the machine right, got measurements wrong, screwed up orders. When it came to coffee, she was a total trainwreck, and Alix knew it, too. Every coffee she got from there was awful, because Jeannean kept making it, but she kept coming back because it was the closest one and she didn't want to figure out where a different coffeeshop was. A few times, as the training got harder, and Alix spent more and more time awake and stressed, which honestly the coffee wasn't helping with, she wanted to say something to the barista girl. Really, she wanted to scream at her, but do something at least, because as time went on, instead of getting used to it, the coffee seemed to get worse and worse." Chloe's gaze darkened. "But Alix didn't say squat."

She walked forward and sat down amongst the dirt and garbage beside Marinette, continuing the story. "You see, she remembered me and the way I'd yell at any poor cashier, chef, butler, or barista who'd get my order even the slightest bit wrong, and she remembered them getting fired, then Akumatized more times than not. So she kept her mouth shut, and drank coffee that was more sludge than drink over and over again, because that was somehow easier than doing anything about it."

A sigh broke through Chloe's being at that moment, air curling around her lips, visible in the cold. "Anyway, a few months later, someone accidentally got food poisoning there. Moldy beans, bad milk, improperly cleaned steam wand, don't ask me what happened, but whatever it was, it was Jean's fault. I don't think she got arrested, but she sure got fired, and the guy she poisoned got Akumatized after puking his guts out for a while." She grimaced. "That couldn't have been a fun Akuma to fight."

Marinette felt her own mouth twist into a similar expression. She remembered that fight, vividly, and it really wasn't.

"After that, Alix quit coffee. It was actually one of the first things I asked her about when I met her again after graduation." She shook her head, getting back on track. "I guess my point is, people are stubborn. It's usually so much easier to just keep on doing what you're doing, even if it makes you miserable, than to change anything, and by the time something happens that forces you to change, inevitably, someone gets hurt." She looked down at her hand, slowly unclenching it from the fist it had made sometime during the story. "Could be you, could be a friend, or a stranger, but someone always gets hurt."

It was funny, Marinette should have thought of her and Adrien, him so stuck on the girl he couldn't have, and her so stuck on him, but the only thought swimming in her head was, what about Chloe? Who did Chloe hurt so badly that it changed her this much? Or who hurt Chloe bad enough it did.

Even staring into her face, Chloe's cheeks flushed from the cold, sitting on the grimy alley floor, Marinette didn't have an answer.

"Come on," Chloe made it unsteadily to her feet with what seemed like a great effort. Was she tired? It had to have been awfully late by then. "If the Akuma hasn't come by now, it's not coming."

Chloe held out a hand and Marinette took it, making her way to her own feet with about as much difficulty. Both legs, it seemed, had fallen asleep sometime while she was on the ground, and she could hardly feel them beneath the pins and needles they were giving.

Chloe slung an arm over her shoulder to help her walk out, but it almost seemed like Marinette was supporting her, instead. "Why did you come here?" She whispered. "Why help me?"

Chloe was silent for a handful of moments, and the sounds of Paris flooded around them as they stepped out onto the main streets, lights and smells staving off the cold like a warm hug, like Chloe's arm over her shoulder, come to think of it. Then she turned with the smallest of smiles. "I promised, I would."

There was no followup, but Marinette couldn't bring herself to question further. Sometimes it didn't even feel like Chloe had reasons for the things she did. She simply was, less a person and more a force of nature. No, even those were explainable.

If Chloe were Akumatized right then, what would she do?

It was a strange thought, but one she'd been having some version of for a while by then. Sometimes when she'd be walking with someone, or watching a presentation, even, embarrassingly enough, from time to time when someone was talking to her and she was too bored to pay attention, she'd look at them and wonder what their Akuma's would be. That man, nearly slipping on the ice, his would be heat based, Akuma in his hat. The woman in the fancy dress out on the town, mind controlled army, Akuma in her corsage. Akuma in the cane, the shoes, the soda can. Ice based, statue based, Christmas light based. Akumas swirled around her everywhere she looked. Except, when she turned to Chloe again, she couldn't even guess.

Her clothes were simple, no elaborate fineries or jewelry. Her shirt didn't even have a design on it, just a solid yellow color. More than that, what ability would she even have? For all the Akuma's she'd already been, why was it so hard to picture her as one now?

Why didn't she want to?

There was nothing personal about it, she'd pictured everyone from Alya to her own mother as Akumas, that wasn't saying she thought they'd become one any second. For that matter, becoming an Akuma was Hawkmoth's fault, not the victim's, so even if she thought they might become one, that wasn't to say she thought less of them. It was just something she did. Except, apparently, when it came to Chloe.

"Would you have gone to Hong Kong, if he asked?" Chloe said suddenly as they moved down the street.

Marinette would have liked to say yes, to entertain the thought that Adrien might have accepted her feelings, invited her along, but the thought died coldly in her head. "Too much of my life is here." Her parents, her friends, designing, Ladybug. "I don't think I could have given that up, not yet, at least."

Chloe nodded. "It hurts, but sometimes change is exactly what you need. Adrien seemed to think it'd help him. Maybe it'll help you, too."

"You think I should go to Hong Kong?" Marinette asked, incredulously.

Chloe reached over and flicked her on the forehead. "You just said you wouldn't have gone, even if he asked you. I'm not telling you to leave, I'm saying you should let him go." She slides on a thin patch of ice for a moment, and something flashes across her face too quickly for Marinette to see. She doesn't fall, but if Marinette wasn't bearing half her weight, she had no doubt she would've. "He's planning on confessing to his lady love, today, and if I know her at all, she's gonna kick him to the curb."

"You know the girl Adrien likes?" Marinette asked, surprised. She knew they were friends, but... so were her and Adrien.

"We've met," Chloe hedged, "and she's hopelessly out of his league."

Marinette couldn't help a slightly stilted laugh. "Oh yeah, way out of the rich supermodel's league, I'm sure."

Chloe's expression didn't waver.

The laugh died in her throat. "You're serious?"

She nodded, slowly. "He's been trying for years. If he had told her he was leaving a month ago, it might have shaken something loose, but as it is now? He doesn't stand a chance." They walked further down the street, a light snow just beginning to dust the streets around them, clinging to Chloe's hair like tiny feathers. It was a nice distraction from everything else, from the way Chloe's breath seemed to come sharper, her steps slower as they moved, from the realization why.

"Chloe," Marinette said, suddenly, the words forming in her mind only a moment before she said them. "Where are your crutches?"

She didn't answer at first, but that seemed to say more than any words could. Leaning on the wall, on each other, that flash across her face when she slipped on the ice and her foot met uneven ground. It could only have been pain.

"I'm fine," she said, and the words were clear and crisp, like the air, but they were also a lie.

Marinette stopped walking, and Chloe's arm around her shoulder as it was, she had to stop, too. "Where's your apartment?"

There was steel in her voice as she asked, that made Chloe roll her eyes. "Would you relax, girlscout? It's right down the street, I was already taking you there to get cleaned up."

Marinette started moving again, more of a march than the leisurely stroll they were walking under earlier. "Of all the irresponsible, hare-brained, insensée, things to do, I can't believe-" Marinette's rant devolved to dark mutterings under her breath as they went to the building Chloe indicated.

Once or twice, Chloe would open her mouth as if to provide some sort of rebuttal, but the glare Marinette would send her way forced her to shut it again.

There was no elevator in the apartment, Chloe's room was on the fourth floor, and she expected to... what? Walk up all of them without even telling Marinette? She'd probably already walked down them. If Marinette were only slightly pettier, she'd have Chloe walk up them all herself, just to make a point, but she wasn't, so they'd need an alternate solution.

"Put your hands here and swing your legs over my arm. I'll carry you up." There was no way she'd let her injure her leg more than it already was.

"Right," Chloe said, skeptically. "You'll carry me up four flights of stairs with those secret fashion designer muscles. I'm sure lifting that needle and thread really gets the reps in."

There was a part of her that wanted to explain to Chloe how the design process worked, particularly when she was designing and creating outfits all on her own, another part of her wanted to allude to a different workout in reference to her activities as Ladybug, and a third part of her wanted to simply argue that Chloe was being irrational and that when presented with a solution that would keep her leg from further injury, the proper response would be something like 'thank you,' but unfortunately none of those parts of her seemed to be in charge at that moment.

Marinette bent down and sweeped Chloe's legs out from under her with an arm, catching her and beginning to carry her up the stairs without another word.

Barring a small yelp of surprise, Chloe's mouth was fixed open in silent shock the entire walk up the stairs. Chloe handed Marinette the key and she walked in far enough to deposit her on the couch, finally breathing a sigh as the door clicked shut behind them.

Placing her hands on her hips in a defiant pose, slightly out of breath, but feeling victorious anyway, Marinette asked, "what was that you were saying about my fashion designer muscles?"

Chloe looked at her, her eyes widening ever so slightly.

Then she laughed.

Marinette had heard Chloe laugh before, there had been no shortage of that to go along with the tormenting of her and her classmates, but that had always been haughty, laced with the same flavor of cruelty that fueled her actions. This laugh was a bit odd, sort of wheezy like it had been in disuse for too long. Objectively, it wasn't pleasant to hear, but she couldn't help a small flush of pride that she'd managed to get it out of Chloe. It was a victory; she couldn't care less what it sounded like.

"You're really crazy, you know that?" Chloe said when her laughs had descended into chuckles, then finally petered out completely. "Just when I think I've got you figured out, you pull something like this."

"You think I'm crazy?" Marinette countered, good-naturedly. "I'm not the one running up and down the street with a broken leg."

"Touche," she acknowledged, moving to the side enough Marinette could sit down on the couch beside her. She didn't say anything else for a minute or two, just some small echoes of the laughter she gave before. When even those were gone, she spoke again. "If you're waiting for an explanation, why I went out without the crutches, I don't really have one."

Marinette blinked. She had been wondering, maybe not waiting for an explanation, specifically, but the thought had crossed her mind. Still, "you don't know why you did it?"

There was a moment, one Marinette could only see by virtue of her hard fought victories, small as they were, in understanding Chloe, she saw her making a choice. It was a choice she must have made every day, in countless ways, but this was the first time she could see it reflected on Chloe's face.

A truth or a lie, that was the question, that decision flicking across her expression like a knife through a letter. For anyone else, she might have had some idea which they would choose, but for Chloe she couldn't even hazard a guess.

"I know why," Chloe hedged, carefully. "I just don't have an explanation for you." It was the truth, this time.

"That's okay," Marinette said with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. An explanation would have been nice, but that wasn't what was important right then. "But could you please not do it again until you're all healed? I don't like seeing you in pain."

"I'm not sure your younger self would agree." Chloe said it like a joke, but it was clear from her expression there was bitterness to the words.

"No, Chloe." Marinette shook her head, voice unbending. "We may have had our differences, but I have never liked seeing you in pain." She reached over and gently laid her hands over Chloe's, tightened into fists in her lap as they were. "Never."

Chloe looked down at the hands, then up at Marinette's face. "He should have asked you."

By the expression on her face, it wasn't something she had meant to say out loud.

"What?" Marinette pressed.

That expression passed over her face again, so quick, but visible in the moment.

"Adrien should have asked you to go with him," she answered.

Lie.

Marinette smiled, wanly. "Thanks, Chloe." She stood, stretching her legs for a moment before turning to face Chloe again. "It's way too late, so I should probably get home before my body completely shuts down." Between the emotional and physical exhaustion, it already felt like she'd fall asleep the second she closed her eyes, so she really didn't want to push it by sitting on the soft couch in the gently warm apartment.

"Ridiculous," Chloe countered, standing, then wincing at the pain in her leg, but continuing on undeterred. "I did not rescue you from Akumatization so that you could get mugged on the way back to your apartment." She opened a cabinet beside the couch, withdrawing a cover, pillows, sheets, and blankets from it, then laying them on the couch and pointing at it. "You're staying here, doctor's orders."

"You're not that kind of doctor," Marinette protested, weakly.

She folded her arms, challengingly. "Aren't I?"

Marinette didn't have a response to that, and late as it was, she was too tired to think of one, so instead of arguing any further, she took the covers and began laying them over the couch.

Chloe nodded, satisfied, and turned to retreat to her own bed, but stopped at the doorway, her fingers strumming along the frame for a moment. "For the record?" Marinette looked up, but Chloe still wasn't facing her direction. "You're out of his league, too."

She felt more tired than she could remember, with makeup uncomfortably smeared over her face like grime. She'd been stressed at work to the point she'd lost contact with so many friends, and with every new Akuma she fought as Ladybug, it felt like there were closer and closer calls with every battle. Nearly losing her Miraculous made her heart freeze, every time, to the point she was worried one day someone would reach for her earrings and it would stop beating altogether. And yet,

A smile bloomed across her face at the words, small, but more genuine than she'd felt in a long time. "Goodnight, Chloe."

Chloe moved forward again, never looking back, but waving a careful hand in departure. "Goodnight, Dupain-Cheng."

She clicked the lights off and collapsed into bed, feeling the sweet shade of drowsiness envelop her just as much as the blankets around her.

There was so much she'd have to do tomorrow, but despite how close they already were to the new dawn 'tomorrow' seemed awfully far away.

She was warm, she was safe, and when she dreamed, she dreamed of nothing at all.

(:*:)

Chloe laid in bed, staring at the ceiling like it would stare right back if she willed it hard enough. She wished she could sit up, make a few more eliminations on the security tapes, but her entire body felt leaden, trapped in the grip of some cruel paralysis. She felt sleepy, even though she knew there was no reason to. So she laid in bed and stared at the ceiling.

Marinette was in the next room.

It was a strange thought that wriggled and bit at the edges of her mind, waiting to be examined while Chloe wanted nothing more than to cast it out. Having someone sleep in the same building as her wasn't unheard of for her, she'd grown up in a hotel, after all. Having someone sleep in the same room was likewise, if not common, at least not exceedingly rare. She'd slept in the same room as Alix just the night before, after all.

Which meant the thought that wanted to be examined, the reason it pestered her so, wasn't because a person was sleeping in the next room, but because Marinette was. Marinette, who so conveniently and inconveniently represented everything about the world Chloe couldn't... well, just couldn't.

It was like every aspect of Chloe had been flipped and placed in the surprisingly athletic body of the little half-Chinese designer, the only thing salvaged from their appearance being twin pairs of crystal-blue eyes. Though, while Marinette's eyes were bright and full of life, Chloe's were about as flat, jaded, and dead as eyes could appear on anyone still drawing breath. A doll's eyes, she thought, cynically.

Her mother would have enjoyed that.

Chloe let that thought slide away, ignored, as it should be. Her mother was long in the grave, tucked outside of Paris where even the most twisted of Akumatizations wouldn't stir her. Not that it would, of course, Hawkmoth seemed a bit squeamish around corpses. He'd never design a power that could raise them directly.

"You really never stop thinking about Hawkmoth, do you?" The voice came from the side, so clipped with accusation it would have made Chloe stiffen if her limbs weren't still frozen in place.

Chloe couldn't turn her head to see, but she already knew who it was. "When he's dead," she said, hollowly, "I'll never have to think of him again."

"I don't think your Honeycomb constituents feel the same way," the owner of the voice replied, her tone biting. "Some people will have to deal with the results of Hawkmoth's actions for the rest of their lives."

"However short that might be," Chloe shot back, her tone sharper than jagged glass.

Footsteps rang through the room as she came closer to the bed, yet still Chloe couldn't turn to see. A hand lazily trailed its way up her body, toward her face. "You know, it can't be healthy, holding on to that much anger." The hand stopped right before her chin, and the second one joined it in wrapping around her throat in an almost tender manner. "You might pop a blood vessel."

Chloe couldn't breathe. Every time she thought she might be able to sneak a breath past some gap in her airway, the hands would only squeeze tighter. "Please," she whispered, roughly, willing her arms to move, to push her off, fight back, but still her limbs were powerless to do anything. "Stop."

"Why should I stop?" She asked. "Isn't this what you want?"

"Want. To. Live." Chloe forced the words out, one by one, as it seemed to take all her breath to do so.

"You're a liar." The grip became tighter, making black spots dance across her vision. "You pick fights with criminals, with Hawkmoth, with Ladybug, and you expect people to believe you're not looking for death? You might be able to fool everyone else, Chloe," the face of Sabrina Raincomprix came into view, lips twisted into a sadistic grin, "but you can't fool me."

Chloe shot out of bed, blinking the sleep from her eyes. She was awake, but the nightmare still clung to her mind, forcing her breath into shuddering gasps like the illusory hands were still on her throat.

Her leg throbbed, but Chloe ignored it, limping to the bathroom so she could splash her face with water. As the unreality of the dream began to fade, and her breathing slowed to something approaching normal, she became aware of sounds coming from the next room over. When she opened the door to investigate, she was struck by the smell of food, almost unheard of in her apartment.

It wasn't until she saw Marinette by the stove, the source of the food, that she even remembered the designer was still there. "Morning, Chloe," she said, brightly. "I hope you don't mind my borrowing your cookware for a bit, or raiding your fridge, but I thought you might like some breakfast."

"I don't think my cookware's been used since its purchase," Chloe commented, taking a seat at the table. "Use whatever you like, but you don't have to make me anything; I don't need repayment."

"Well, it's a good thing this isn't repayment, then," Marinette said, breezily. "Do you like omelettes?"

Chloe made a noise of assent, watching Marinette as she checked cabinets and drawers for whatever implement or spice she was looking for. Chloe had stocked the kitchen reasonably well when she had first moved in, but after a month of failed attempts at cooking, she'd shut everything away. By that point, the only person who did cooking there was Alix, on occassion, and really the only reason Chloe kept the fridge stocked with unprepared food at all.

Still, even in the unfamiliar area with no doubt a heavy dearth of supplies, Marinette continued on, undetterred. "You sleep alright? Hope I didn't wake you up."

"No," Chloe gave a wry smile Marinette couldn't see with her back turned as it was. "You didn't wake me up." Alix had, from time to time, attempted any number of things to rouse her from that particular dream, but nothing worked. Marinette couldn't have woken her if she wanted to.

A prodding in her memory forced her to reciprocate the question. "How about you? Couch treat you alright?"

"Oh, it was great. Comfier than my bed, if I'm being honest," she admitted. "Thanks for letting me crash."

"I would have accepted nothing less," Chloe huffed, gracefully.

Marinette laid a plate with an omelette on the table in front of Chloe, followed by a cup of coffee. "I didn't know how you take it, so if you want sugar or cream or anything, just let me know."

"Orange juice, second row, first shelf, in the fridge, if you wouldn't mind." Marinette fetched it from the fridge and Chloe poured the drink into her coffee until it nearly overflowed before setting it down again.

"That'll wake you up," Marinette commented.

Chloe took a long sip. "It always does."

The omelette, for all the simplicity in its ingredients, was perfect. Every side was cooked to perfection, the cheese had melted all the way through, it was hot and salty, and there wasn't a place in Paris Chloe could have gotten a better one at that moment.

Marinette waited for Chloe to get halfway through, eating her own omelette in silence before speaking again. "So, when I woke up, I was looking for the bathroom and I found it, but before that I also walked into a different room by mistake?"

Chloe raised an eyebrow. What was she rambling about.

"Why do you have a secret, creepy, Hawkmoth murder room?" She finally asked, wincing at her own phrasing.

Chloe chewed on the omelette some more, watching Marinette sweat. "Secret." Marinette winced again. "Creepy." Again. "Hawkmoth." Her teeth gritted together at that. "Murder." Big wince. "Room."

When she'd let Marinette stew for longer than could reasonably be considered 'nice,' Chloe actually answered the question. "I'm trying to figure out who Hawkmoth is."

By the way Marinette's jaw dropped open, this was not the answer she was expecting. "What? For..." she forced her mouth closed again, lowering the volume her voice had become. "For how long? Do you have any leads?"

"A few," Chloe acknowledged. "Mostly, I've been doing eliminations, figuring out who Hawkmoth isn't, first and foremost."

"Can I see?" She asked, and Chloe had to blink in surprise.

Standing up, then slightly annoyedly using her crutches when Marinette pushed them into her hand, Chloe navigated to her 'secret, creepy, Hawkmoth, murder, room,' and opened up the digital version of her notes, listing every applicable person, and the reason they were eliminated, with references to individual tapes and timestamps included.

"This is incredible," Marinette whispered, genuinely seeming amazed by the notes as she began scrolling through. "You must have been working on this for years, it looks like you've got all of Paris listed out."

Chloe wasn't entirely sure what to say to this. Although it wasn't anywhere close to the whole population of Paris, it did satisfy the requirements of people who could be Hawkmoth: those that fit the metrics for age, wealth, body type, were all listed and summarily rejected as quickly as she could. Still, Marinette was right; it had taken years.

Marinette's eyebrows furrowed. "Why is Gabriel Agreste marked SFR?"

"Slated for reevaluation," she explained. "Every once in a while, I'll learn or figure out something new about Hawkmoth which makes some of my previous designations inaccurate, so I try to mark those down so I can get back to them later, find a different reason to exclude them. It's usually not an issue finding something else, but I can't just let it slide."

"You're really careful about this, aren't you?" Marinette kept paging through the file.

'You're the most careful person I know. There's no one else I'd rather leave it to.'

Chloe squeezed her eyes shut against the memory.

'You're gonna do great things, Chloe.'

"Chloe?" Marinette gently laid a hand on her shoulder, breaking her from her thoughts. "Are you alright?"

Chloe plastered on a smile, harder than stone and just as thick. "I'm fine, Marinette. Why do you ask?" She deftly removed the designer's hand from her shoulder, backing up a step to prevent her doing it again.

Marinette's lips pursed, but she didn't say anything more as she closed down the file and stood up again. She didn't try to put her hand on her shoulder again, either. "I should go."

She was still wearing her dress from Adrien's farewell gathering the night before. It could hardly be called comfortable, even without considering the heels. But as Marinette gathered her things and walked out the door, Chloe never suggested she borrow some of her own clothes she'd no doubt be an adequate fit for.

It was only later on, laundering the sheets Marinette had used and washing the dishes, her eyes skated over to a shelf holding a small yellow bear the thought even occurred.

"I should have at least called her a car," she murmured to herself. Shaking her head and returning to the dishes, she gave an almost silent sigh, the sound not even touching the walls of the large apartment. "Maybe..." she put the last plate away, "next time."

She closed her eyes, living for just a moment, in that next time, where she would say the right things, take the right steps and be, even for one day, a functional human being, instead of simply passing as one.

Then the moment ended, her eyes opened up again, and with the sheets folded and in their proper places, the dishes and cookware all banished to the back of her shelves and cabinets where she would continue to never use them, it was like Marinette was never there at all.

And thoughts of some childishly optimistic next time were quietly shuffled away as Chloe set about her day.


End file.
